


I May Fall

by hausos



Series: simple souls [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Self-Indulgent, Time Shenanigans, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hausos/pseuds/hausos
Summary: Desmond Miles wakes up, captured by Templars. That's part of the plan. Being forced to relive the memories of his ancestors, who are his other selves? Yeah, definitely not.AKA, the time Desmond derailed canon before it even started.
Series: simple souls [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011534
Comments: 16
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "I May Fall" written by Jeff Williams. Pay attention to the lyrics.
> 
> So, here we go! If you're familiar with the original work, All Our Days, this is Desmond's story that was originally placed as chapters in that. I was looking over the posted chapters, story notes, and seeing what has yet to be written and decided that splitting the two apart would make it easier in the long run.

_ And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is a vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow… _

Stand in a familiar place, though the familiarity is distant, like someone had taken a picture of a known place and manipulated it into something it was distinctly not. There are familiar shapes of people, but they are not  _ people, _ they are faceless masses, hair long and dresses long, and they grip and grasp and enter personal space like they are trying to enter  _ into _ the personal space.

_ “We’ve got a problem…” _

Walk past, hands on shoulders, do not hurt them, they are innocent, stay the blade, but walk forward, get closer to the singular being making the speech. It is scripture, but it is warped, voice growing louder and echoing and sounding like the way a limb feels when it ‘falls asleep’ and then ‘wakes up’, gravel. The voice enters the mind like an arrow, like it will not be ignored, but it  _ has _ to be ignored.

_ “Focus. Listen to the sound of my voice…” _

Betrayal. There is betrayal in that voice. That voice is beloved and respected but it is betrayal and it has- it has- it has-

_ “We’re losing him _ …”

No, it is the mimicry of a market. Not the actual place but the memory of a memory of the place. White fog illuminates everything and it is like berserker gas and the faceless are not faceless but they are not real, their faces are contorted into rage. Rage that is not rage but mimics rage, a lie, betrayal-

_ “We need to pull him out…” _

Stay the blade from the flesh of the innocent. That is a tenant, it is a known tenant, it is something that has been internalized. But there is also panic in the heart, and then a hand is reaching out- punching. There is punching. Swarms of people, fake-rage, crowding. Punch and push them away to safe distance.

_ “All right Desmond, we’re going to try and bring you out.” _

* * *

Desmond gasped desperately, and threw his hands in front of him, like if he tried, he could  _ push _ those memories away. He breathed heavily, and looked wildly around, taking in his surroundings and the two people there. Desmond placed a hand on the table he was on, as well as on his stomach. And then he  _ remembered _ what had happened-

What. The. Fuck.

“Desmond!” Evie said, appearing next to him. “Oh my god, you’re  _ okay.” _

Not a second later, all of his other selves appeared as well. They were all wild eyed and looked like a mess. Not that Desmond could blame them, if any of what he had just went through bled to them. Shit, he probably looked terrible too. He certainly  _ felt _ terrible.

“Desmond,” Altair said, and gripped Desmond’s hand tightly and desperately. His eyes were wide and a desperate, golden sheen. His hand was clammy, and Desmond could see the sweat on his brow from here. Everyone crowded Desmond too, and he leaned into their presence.

“There, see? I told you he’d be fine,” an unknown voice said. Old, distinguished, and Desmond wanted to run  _ his hidden blade through his face- _

“Calm,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. He was anything  _ but _ calm though, none of them were. But he had the best self-control of them when he wasn’t in one of his berserker moods, and Desmond grasped desperately at it.

“We planned for this,” Elise reminded him, and placed a hand on Desmond’s chest.

Yes, they did, and Desmond held tight to that plan, because he didn’t have anything else right now. He almost flew at the old man regardless, but refrained. “Bastard!” Desmond hissed.

“Now, now,” the old man said. His voice was oily and falsely kind, and Desmond kind of hated him on sheer principle. “I just saved your life.”

They all turned and just  _ stared _ at the man. Desmond couldn’t help it.  _ None _ of them could help it, because honestly, what the fuck,  _ really? _ Did he expect Desmond to believe that? Like, at all?

Desmond sat up, struggling with the motion. He was still disorientated from whatever the fuck  _ that _ was, but he still had control. He could reach out and  _ punch the smarmy ass _ and that helped settle some discomfort. “Saved  _ my life? _ You kidnapped me! Strapped me into that  _ thing!” _

The old man raised an eyebrow. It was rather condescending, and  _ wow, _ Desmond’s emotions were all over the place, because all he literally wanted to do right now was punch him. Not that the old man  _ didn’t _ deserve it if he was the one in charge of having Desmond kidnapped, but usually he had more control over himself.

“Animus,” the old man said, “That is the Animus.”

_ That _ grabbed everyone’s attention. They had heard of it before, of course, and had been interested in its applications. By its name alone they figured it had to do with the subconscious, and probably involved medication of some sort. But this-

“Desmond,” Elise reminded him.

“I don’t even know you people!” Desmond said. It wasn’t hard to remain angry and slightly scared. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

The old man took several steps away. Unfortunately. “You have information that we need, Mister Miles,” he said. Wow, talk about condescending.

“Information? I’m a  _ bartender, _ for Christ’s sake! What do you need to know, how to mix a martini?” Desmond retorted.

He shoved all feeling at his other selves because he literally could not allow his true emotions to be read. Not here and not now. Ezio made a face at him and it made Desmond feel better. Slightly.

“We know who you are,” the old man said, voice low. Huh, he could do intimidating pretty decently, for all that he was an  _ ass. _ Too bad Desmond was  _ not _ intimidated. He faced down much scarier.  _ “What _ you are.”

Well, fuck. If he meant he knew Desmond was an  _ Assassin _ -

“Shove over,” Elise said quickly, and Desmond easily relinquished his spot to her. The best lie was the absolute truth. She turned to the old man and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy with me. There isn’t time. You’re an Assassin. And whether you realize it or not, you’ve got something my employers want,” the old man reached up to point at Elise’s head. He was smart enough not to get  _ too _ close, though. Elise would have bitten his finger off, and it looked like the old man knew it. “Locked away in that head of yours.”

“I am not,” Elise said as firmly as she could, eyes narrowed at the old man, “an Assassin.”

The utter sincerity in the statement seemed to surprise the old man. Ha. Fuck you too, you utter  _ bastard. _ Elise absolutely was not an Assassin. Still, the old man recovered nicely. “Hm, yes, your file mentioned as much. Something about an escape.”

“Oh fuck you,” Desmond hissed. He gripped Altair’s hand tighter in an effort to keep himself calm.

Desmond  _ knew _ the Templars of this time were strong, but they didn’t know everything. They hadn’t found the Farm for one. Desmond certainly would have heard about that. But like hell his parents had managed to keep the search for him  _ completely _ quiet.

Desmond had actually learned about their search of him on his own, and he had much fewer resources than Abstergo. Desmond would honestly be disappointed if the Templars  _ hadn’t _ figured it out by now.

“Most fortunate for us,” the old man said. He dropped his intimidating act and went back to being self-righteous.

“What do you want from me?” Elise demanded.

“For you to do as your told,” the old man said. All eight of them growled in response. Like hell they were. “The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you’ll be free to go.”

Desmond stared at the old man again. Because only the most desperate, eager-to-please people would realize that that  _ wasn’t _ going to happen. It was obvious in the way the old man spoke, and the look in his eye. Nothing good happened to people here when Abstergo was done with them.

“I am  _ not _ going back in there!” Elise said. It was part act, playing independent and rebellious, because they had to make them think of Desmond a certain way. It was also because none of them really wanted to get back. Not after what  _ just _ happened.

“Then we’ll induce a coma and continue our work,” the old man started, voice devoid of even his self-righteous attitude. It was more chilling than when he tried to be intimidating. “When we’re done, you’ll be left to die. Truth be told, the only reason you’re conscious is because this approach saves us time.”

“You’re  _ insane,” _ Elise said, eyes wide. There was fear, too, both false and true.

Well, shit, they hadn’t planned on being put into a coma. The look in the old man’s eyes told them that he was not kidding about that. Dammit, they didn’t have any information here, so it wasn’t like they could just  _ leave. _ They had no idea what the security was like in this place. But oh, how Desmond wished to.

“So what is it, Mister Miles? Live, or die?” the old man asked.

“How about your decapitated head on the edge of a stick?” Desmond growled. Morbid, maybe, but the threats made him feel better.

Elise said nothing in her own fury, though, and apparently the old man considered that an answer.

“Lie down,” the old man ordered.

Elise narrowed her eyes at him, and did not move.

“Fuck,” Desmond said, and rubbed his arm with his free hand. “We don’t have a choice. Not now, when we don’t have the information we need.”

“I don’t like this,” Altair said. His hand gripped Desmond’s tighter. Seriously, he looked like he had gotten the worst of the shared trauma. It was fine, though, the others would take care of him.

“None of us do,” Desmond said glumly. “Come on Elise, switch again.”

It was easy to switch, and Desmond was seated again on the Animus. He glared at the old man, and imagined shoving a knife into his gut. Assassins were supposed to give as quick and painless of deaths as they could, but oh, how he  _ imagined. _

“Lay back,” the blonde behind him said softly, but firmly. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

So Desmond did.

* * *

Memories. They were an imprint as the brain hit ‘record’ on a moment in time, putting all the senses forward into it. Sounds, smells, touch, taste, sight, it was all placed in storage, held together by neural pathways, and as such could be triggered and used all together. The brain didn’t hold memories, it  _ was _ memory. Both physical and mental. It was why a good knock on the head could cause so many physical problems.

Genetic memories. The information that was held in the blood itself, in DNA, where events were recorded and held together. DNA informed how a body was constructed, and that included what was declared ‘important’ and therefore passed on or unimportant, and discarded.

But they weren't discarded, were they? They were just held, dormant. They existed but they held no real importance.

Generational trauma. That was a thing. How the brain and the body developed even generations after a traumatic event happened changed. The body was good at remembering. It stored its information in pathways, and sometimes… sometimes that went bone deep. Nature versus nurture, yes, but also a mutation in the DNA that passed on.

That was an aspect, an example, of genetic memories. Instinct was another. How animals knew where to migrate, how they knew to care for their offspring, how they could tell whether one thing was bad or not. Why some dogs were good at herding, while others loved water. Genetic memory, instinct, was how those animals  _ knew _ what to do without any prior experience. It was encoded into their DNA.

The Animus was meant to decode those memories.

* * *

_ Altair, Malik, and Kadar stalked through the tunnel. It was narrow, with the occasional wooden support beams placed within. It had the smell of fresh dirt; obvious, since the tunnel was recently built. Ahead of them stood a miner, unaware of their presence. _

_ “What,” Altair murmured quietly to Kadar, “do you think we should do?” _

_ Kadar was a mid-rank journeyman, and this mission was also an evaluation. Depending on how he did, and how Altair and Malik reported it, Kadar would gain a new rank. He did not know, for all that Altair and Malik never kept secrets from him. The fact that it was the two of them would hide its true purpose. _

_ “He cannot see us,” Kadar said, frowning. “But we can’t kill him, can we?” _

_ “Oh, we can,” Altair said, and twitched his hand at Malik when he frowned at him. “There is no question of the possibility.” It’d be ridiculously easy. For all their durability, humans were also very fragile. _

_ Kadar paused, and then shook his head lightly. “No. We  _ cannot _ kill him. He is innocent. But we still can’t let him see us. Could we knock him unconscious instead? This is a new tunnel, maybe a rock could have hit him in the head?” _

_ “Yes,” Altair said, pleased with the answer. He turned, and studied the tunnel, focusing his vision until the colored smoke bled into his vision. _

_ The miner still didn’t register their presence. Altair prowled forward, picked up a decent size rock from the tunnel floor, and quickly and easily hit the miner on the head. He grabbed the miner before he fell, and laid him on the ground. _

_ “Nicely done!” Kadar said. _

_ Altair clicked his tongue in gentle reprimand, matching Malik’s frown of disapproval. Altair motioned for Kadar to come closer. “Here, look at what I do. Head injuries can cause complicated problems in the future, so this is how you check for a concussion…” _

* * *

That night, as Desmond was left alone in his prison-cell, they all stared at the symbols that had been painted on the walls, a match to the symbols and words on the floor in the other room. They glowed red under their second sight, but the edges of them were the golden-white of  _ importance _ and  _ information. _

Desmond rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “We can… write that down later.”

“Get into bed, Desmond,” Elise said, just as tired as he was. They all had an  _ incredibly _ long day. “We’re all going to sleep together tonight.”

“Okay,” Desmond said, which was echoed through them all. He climbed into bed. He didn’t bother taking his shoes off.

It barely took a thought before Desmond was in Elise’s bed, the others all following quickly after. Desmond grabbed Altair, and wrapped him in a hug. The two of them had born the brunt of what the Animus did. The others all curled up around them, putting them in the middle of a cuddle pile.

Desmond breathed slowly, and Altair matched him. Their foreheads pressed together, and he savored the physical contact, and the slow, lazy,  _ warm _ contact loop that followed. They were the same heart, the same soul, and the same  _ being. _ But they were different  _ people, _ with different likes, and dislikes, and how they viewed the world differed. Desmond was Desmond. Altair was Altair. All the way through the eight of them.

The Animus was not what they thought. It was a thought that whispered through all of their minds an indeterminate time later, and Desmond sighed. Seemed that it was time to talk about what happened.

“So, Abstergo has me,” Desmond said. “That, we planned for. We left instructions behind for when this happened.”

“Your captains know what to do,” Altair agreed softly. “They are trained well, and will already know that you have been taken.”

“We also unfortunately know what the Animus is, now,” Desmond said, and closed his eyes.

Most of his exhaustion was that incredibly low synch rate that Vidic complained about the entire time Desmond was in the Animus. It was barely enough to keep moving forward, which was the reason why Desmond was even allowed out at the moment. And, after getting tired of being kicked from the memories several times, Desmond even  _ tried _ to synch.

Except, synching with Altair meant  _ sharing _ with  _ Altair, _ and that… drew Altair in. And the Animus was meant to only hold one person, apparently, so that caused even  _ more _ problems. And with Desmond and Altair trying and failing at something, and  _ needing _ it to work, it drew the others in as well, as they instinctively tried to help them both.

The entire day was a fucking mess, honestly. Desmond felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears.

It didn’t help that Desmond was recalling memories that they had  _ already been through. _ That Altair had lived the exact scenario just a couple of months ago.

“They want the Apple of Eden,” Desmond said.

“Not the Apple itself, I don’t think. Or not  _ just _ the Apple, not when they were trying to get you to an entirely different memory,” Evie corrected. “There’s something about it that they want.”

“Knowledge,” Altair said, “the Apple has information, and it tempts whoever wields it. It’s why we are working against Al Mualim right now.”

“Illusions,” Elise said thoughtfully, “the Apple has the power of illusions, even if Templars and Assassins fight over its mind control aspect. So it’s going to  _ show _ something, and you’ll see it, and  _ that’s _ what they want.”

“Well, I always wanted to know my future,” Altair said dryly.

“I don’t think it’ll be your future,” Desmond said quietly. He felt their attention return to him. He gathered his thoughts to explain  _ why _ he thought that. “It’s September, right now. And Altair first came in contact with the Apple in July. Altair and the others are planning to throw a coup,  _ now, _ and with what we saw when they threw me in the Animus  _ before…” _

“Congratulations,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said flatly as they registered his train of thought. “You will be reliving the experience in the Animus the same time Altair lives through it.”

Desmond and Altair looked at each other, and then groaned. “Why does the universe hate us?”

“At least we know that you’re  _ related _ now,” Ezio pointed out, “Which does explain a  _ little bit _ why you look the same.”

“Oh yeah,” Desmond said, “I’m descended from you. Is that weird?”

Aveline giggled quietly, and they turned their attention to her, curious. “Altair gets  _ married, _ ” she managed to say.

There was a pause as they all realized what exactly that meant.

“Shut up,” Altair said, and that set them all off.

They all started laughing, and Desmond pressed closer to Altair, glad for the respite. They needed that, he realized. It was a break in the tension that they all felt. Desmond was also exhausted enough that it probably was a lot funnier than it would be otherwise.

After several minutes of giggling; which was longer than it normally would be, because of the echo and compounded nature of it, Desmond sighed again. It was easy to grab Altair’s hand again, and squeeze.

“So, Lucy Stillman,” Desmond said when it was quiet enough that they could talk about it.

Because Abstergo wasn’t filled with idiots. The conference room was on the other side of the bedroom and bathroom wall, and with such an obvious vent placement, they practically  _ invited _ people to listen in. Desmond did, of course, if only to hear what they wanted him to hear. And what he heard was the implication that Lucy was a prisoner as well.

“Templar agent, definitely,” Elise said promptly. “Likely given the task to get your trust, with the non-threatening and almost helpless look to her, and allowing us to overhear the argument that she had with Vidic.”

“There was truth in that conversation, if only to make it easy to trust her,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“Not an enemy,” Aveline said, “But not an ally, either. She doesn’t  _ want _ to hurt you.”

“Want doesn’t mean  _ won’t,” _ Evie pointed out, “It seems she’s in flux, though I don’t know why I feel that way.”

“She’s tied into why all that blood was used to paint the walls and floors,” Altair said slowly, feeling that thought out. “There is a message in those symbols, and her guilt is near palpable when she goes near them.”

“She has Assassin training,” Elise said thoughtfully, “She moves too well to  _ just _ be trained to fight. I know the difference, after all these years.”

“Turncoat?” Desmond asked, “She must have been sent undercover at one point. But to get to the clearance level she’s at right now-”

“She must have been alone for  _ years,” _ Ezio said grimly. “It’s not like she would have been given a handler or a touchstone.”

Desmond bit his lip. “If we consider ourselves independent to the Assassin Order, then-”

“Lucy Stillman is  _ not _ an enemy, if not an ally, either,” Elise said, “In fact, if we can get her to be  _ our _ ally, who are not affiliated with the Order that abandoned her for the years she has been here…”

“What Abstergo does is  _ wrong,” _ Jun said, “I imagine that whatever guilt she feels, she might be willing to leave.”

“It helps that we won’t make her choose one or the other,” Altair said, “Not with Elise here.”

“It would be nice to have another Templar around,” Elise said, smiling amusedly. “Even if we’re kind of heretics to both our Orders.”

“Though we are kind of assuming that she  _ was _ an Assassin,” Evie pointed out, “I’d like to believe it, but we don’t  _ know _ that yet.”

“She doesn’t want to hurt us,” Aveline repeated, “We can  _ use _ that.”

“There’s also the symbols and the words,” Jun said, “That was definitely Chinese on the wall.”

Desmond sighed. “Okay. We can start with recording everything that was left behind. If it was someone that was brought here before me, then it’s likely they died to leave that message. That much blood doesn’t come from nowhere.”

“I can do that, and start researching everything that I can.” Evie said, “I have the most access to information after you.”

“Then we work on Lucy,” Desmond said, “Normally I’d feel bad about heavy manipulation like this, but considering she’s to do the same for  _ us _ I really don’t care.”

“We’ll also have to figure out a way to make using the Animus easier,” Altair said.

Desmond made a face at him, but nodded. “Right, we’ll have to experiment with it tomorrow, since we can’t exactly use it on our own.”

“We need to keep you away, somehow,” Ezio said, and poked Altair in the shoulder, “You have a coup to prepare for, and we already spent the day here. You need your rest, and working in the Animus is definitely  _ not _ restful.”

“We all need some rest,” Evie said, “Especially Desmond, since he’s to go back into the Animus tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said.

He curled up closer to Altair. It was easy for them all to do the same, getting more comfortable in bed. With his other selves all there, all curled up and content and  _ together, _ Desmond closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

_ i did not fight for people to bow to me _

0o0o0


	2. Chapter 2

Desmond woke up early the next morning rested. Any time they all slept together and set off a cozy contact loop was generally the best medicine they could ask for. Which, considering where Desmond found himself, was the best thing he could be doing right now.

He took a quick shower to get rid of the sweat, and put on his old clothes; he’d have to ask if they could at least provide spares, if only to spare  _ them _ from smelling him. At the very least, the shower was hot, and the soap and shampoo decent, if not the best quality. It was all generic but nothing here was strictly  _ uncomfortable. _ It was likely a way to keep their subjects as compliant as possible.

“Right,” Desmond said, climbing back into bed and staring up at the ceiling.

No need for his wardens to know that they were studying the wall. The cameras were well hidden, but they glowed red under Eagle Vision, and Jun had said that their area of effect was literally the  _ entire _ room.

Anyways, with the door locked, he was stuck in the room. He could do his morning stretches, but until Desmond figured out how to deal with Lucy, and what they expected of him, it would do no good to give any true hint of his abilities and skill set. Though he could probably get his jog in later. Maybe he could even annoy Vidic in the process.

Evie and Jun appeared. Evie had a clipboard and a pen in her hand, ready to write everything down. Jun was there to provide translation; sharing language was  _ easy _ after spending more than two-thirds of their lives together, but it was always the easiest when the person who grew up speaking and reading the language did the translation.

“Good morning,” Evie said cheerfully. She already started sketching the symbols themselves, and writing down everything that wasn’t in Chinese.

“Good morning,” Jun repeated.

Shifting, and leaving his body in the bed, Desmond stood next to them. “Morning. Ready for this? I don’t know when they’re going to come and grab me.”

Evie glanced at her clipboard and the wall. “Hm. Yes, I’ve got everything but the words themselves. Already have a few ideas with some of them, too. Jun, you good?”

Jun nodded, and turned to the wall. She made a face at the reference to Emperor Jiajing, but spoke regardless.

_ “Hearing is better than not hearing, observing is better than hearing, knowing is better than observing, and doing is better than knowing.” _

_ “You reap what you sow.” _

_ “One who wants to read into his future simply needs to write his own present.” _

_ “A man without far considerations, must have near worries.” _

_ “As a human being, if you want to know the spiritual realm of Buddha, you have to observe, you have to know that everything you see in the world comes from your own mind.” _

_ “One who does not forget what was before is the master of what comes after.” _

“Well, that is a lot of heavy words,” Desmond said, frowning thoughtfully at it all. 

“I have everything,” Evie said, finishing with a flourish. “At least the shorthand. I’ll write everything out with a cleaner touch later.”

“I’ve entered the Abyss and never returned,” Desmond read. The words had that golden glow of importance, which matched the bloody handprints. “That’s from the one before.”

“They learned something through the Animus,” Evie said thoughtfully, “And it was important enough to them that they risked actually writing all of this down. They likely didn’t have that much time, between injuring themselves to  _ get _ the blood to bleeding out. Not with them being watched constantly.”

Desmond glanced around the room again. Everything was bolted to the floor, or too heavy to move regardless. It was impersonal with smooth edges everywhere, and the vents were very firmly screwed in place. The mirror in the bathroom was metal instead of glass, and placed  _ into _ the wall instead of on top of it. Even the screwheads were sanded down to provide as little chance of hurting himself with them.

“This is a room you give a suicidal person,” Desmond said. “It probably wasn’t so barren or carefully made before.”

Jun frowned. “So they expect you to go the same way, eventually.”

“I don’t know, but they’re at least prepared for it,” Desmond said. “That’s more information than we had just last night.”

Evie looked to her clipboard again. “These are- I recognize some of it. There’s a reference to a bible verse, if I’m not mistaken.”

“The symbols outside will likely be important, too,” Desmond said.

“They’ll have to feed you before you head into the Animus, if only to keep you stable,” Evie said, “I’ll put it all down then.”

“Right,” Desmond nodded.

Whatever else he could have said was interrupted when the door  _ beeped _ gently. It opened with a gentle  _ swoosh _ , and Warren Vidic stood there in all his lab-coat, old man, self-righteous glory. He made this  _ glorious _ face when he saw that Desmond was already awake.

Desmond returned to his actual position on the bed, and sat up. “Morning, Doc.”

“Get up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, annoyed. Evie grinned in triumph next to Desmond. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. More, considering your failures yesterday.”

Desmond scowled at him. So that's how they were going to play it, huh? Vidic to be the nasty, over controlling warden and Lucy to be the sympathetic half-prisoner. They really were trying to get him to be as compliant as possible, weren’t they? Well, lucky for Vidic, Desmond hated him plenty enough without the help.

He climbed out of bed, stretched until his spine popped, and followed after Vidic. Ah, at least there was a tray of food ready for him. It was cereal, yogurt, a couple pieces of toast, and some plastic cups of juice and water. Nothing bad. Actually, it might be something Desmond would eat when he woke up and was running late.

Evie nodded to him as she went around the room, making sketches of all the symbols that were painted on the floor.

“I wonder who I get to not kill today?” Desmond asked, eyeing the plastic spoon and wondering if it’d be worth the effort to start making even rudimentary weapons. Hm. Not yet, he needed to work on getting Vidic complacent.

Vidic made a face at him, and Desmond smirked.  _ Ha. _

Apparently, he had been expecting Altair to be a trigger-happy murderous fiend who went around killing everyone in sight. So, when the Animus revealed that Altair was most decidedly  _ not _ someone who killed randomly, some presumptions had to be knocked down. Sure, Altair still killed people in the memories they had seen. But they were all done in very clear self-defense, and in the defense of others. Mostly, Altair just knocked them unconscious in a fight. Which was actually harder to do safely, but Desmond didn’t feel like explaining that.

“Don’t be so cavalier,” Vidic snapped. Desmond raised an eyebrow. Vidic sighed disappointedly at him, and said, “You know, Mister Miles. Your ancestors  _ almost _ had the right idea.”

“Almost?” Desmond asked curiously. He wondered where Vidic was going with this.

“They didn’t go far enough,” Vidic said simply. “It’s rather like cancer, really, and Assassins treated the symptoms instead of the cause. There is no true change without comprehensive and systematic intervention.”

“Well, we can add God complex to his rather extensive list of faults,” Evie said dryly.

“And how would that happen?” Desmond asked. It sounded like Vidic was advocating mass murder. He wouldn’t put it past this man.

“Education. Or, re-education in this matter. But it’s not easy and it doesn’t always take,” Vidic said. He sounded so  _ disappointed _ about it too.

“So, brainwashing instead of mass murder,” Jun said, and made a disgusted face.

“Well, at least we know he wants the Apple,” Evie said, “Not that we didn’t already know that.”

Desmond rolled his eyes and said as sarcastically as he could, “Let me guess. You have a _better_ _solution._ What is it then?”

Vidic chuckled lowly, amused that Desmond even bothered to ask. “Now that would be telling.”

Desmond frowned at him, and then rolled his eyes. He ate his breakfast slowly, and kept an eye on Evie, who was still sketching. He really wasn’t looking forward to getting into the Animus.

“Hurry up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, “We don’t have all day.”

“What an asshole,” Jun said, miming cutting a throat.

“I’m good, Desmond,” Evie said, finishing her current sketch. “I have everything. I’ll start looking into what they mean.”

Desmond looked Vidic in the eye, and took a bite out of his last piece of toast. Still, he didn’t push further, and finished eating. He wiped his hands on a napkin and then threw everything that could be thrown away.

“If you’re done eating, let’s get started,” Lucy said, smiling sympathetically at him.

“Fine, fine,” Desmond said, sighing as theatrically as he could. Very slowly and reluctantly, he got back onto the Animus.

There was a slight shift in the air as Altair appeared. He gripped Desmond’s hand, and eyed the Animus and Vidic distastefully. “Right,  _ this _ again,” he said. He sat on the Animus next to Desmond. “Might as well figure this out. We have a week before I need to move.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said privately.

And with that, Desmond felt something poke the back of his head, and he  _ faded- _

* * *

_ Malik woke slowly, but at least he woke up. And if anything told Altair how injured Malik was, it was that he woke like a child, blinking sleep from his eyes. _

_ “Malik,” Altair said, and pressed closer. _

_ Altair carefully kept from touching Malik until he knew how Malik felt. Across the other side of the sleeping cot, Elise kept watch over them all. On the other side of the room, Desmond sat at Kadar’s bed. And spread out around the room, appearing as they realized Malik was waking, the others came. _

_ “Mmf?” Malik groaned, eyes unfocused. He turned his head and looked to Altair. _

_ “It is good to see you awake, Brother,” Altair said, relieved. He recognized that look; if Malik felt well enough to be irritated at him, then there was little to worry about. _

_ “Kadar?” Malik asked, voice hoarse. _

_ “He sleeps still,” Altair assured him. “He is doing well. You should rest more.” _

_ Malik glared at him, irritated that Altair presumed to give him an order. Altair smiled, glad to see that Malik still had his spirit. That was good, and would help him heal. Still, Malik closed his eyes and fell asleep, trusting Altair to guard him. _

_ “Al Mualim has been keeping secrets,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said grimly as they watched Malik settle into a deep sleep. “Robert de Sable has set his sights of Masyaf as a threat. The personal kind, in which one knows  _ exactly _ what he is up against.” _

_ “And he wants the Apple,” Elise said. _

_ Altair glanced to where he had hidden it. It was in a small cloth bag to hide it from sight, and then placed in a carrying pouch. He placed it in a locked chest where they kept valuables. If anyone went snooping, they would see and take the money before digging any deeper. Hopefully. _

_ They were in Jerusalem, where Altair had taken his apprenticeship, and it was with the Rafiq’s help that both Malik and Kadar were tended to. The Jerusalem Bureau was the most well hidden of all of them in the Holy Land, and it offered them protection they wouldn’t have had otherwise. They needed it, especially after that disastrous mission in Solomon’s Temple. _

_ “The Apple is virtually unknown to the Brotherhood as it stands now,” Altair said, “At least, not outside of some rather obscure texts. Al Mualim may have read about the Apple.” _

_ It went unsaid that that didn’t explain  _ why _ Robert de Sable knew of Masyaf, and what they did, so intimately. Masyaf was a small city-state that stood independent of all of the others in the Holy Land. Yes, they were known as Assassins, but  _ what _ they did wasn’t well spread beyond their walls. _

_ Robert de Sable, as the Grandmaster to the Templars in King Richard’s army would likely know  _ of _ them. But not as well as he acted. There had to be an information leak somewhere, for this Templar to know of Assassins as more than just the name implied. _

_ “I will bring the Apple to Al Mualim,” Altair said. “We know what it is, and what it does. If we see him doing anything with it, then we will act.” _

_ “Innocent until proven guilty,” Desmond said. _

_ “Yes,” Altair agreed. “We can leave Malik and Kadar here until they are well enough to travel. But I will not leave until they are both awake.” _

* * *

Desmond blinked, and found himself staring through the visor of the Animus. His back was warm from where it pressed against the table.

“Much better than yesterday, Mister Miles,” Vidic said approvingly.

“We had some troubles in the beginning, but it seemed they smoothed out,” Lucy said, smiling at Desmond from her screen. “You’re doing much better with synchronizing, Desmond.”

With that, the visor itself moved back, and Desmond sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Altair appeared next to him, and they pressed their shoulders together. As they did, the others all appeared one by one. They all were tired, still, but they were not exhausted like they were yesterday.

“We’ve figured out a way to keep it going,” Altair said tiredly. Like Desmond, he still felt the worst of the aftereffects of their introduction to the Animus yesterday. “It’s tiring, and I won’t be able to do it for the rest of the week since I’m busy. But you can all do it.”

“That’s good,” Evie said. “We can take shifts.”

“How are you feeling, Desmond?” Lucy asked. She had stepped away for a moment to grab lunch.

Desmond took it gratefully, feeling starved. A large sandwich, some chips, and juice. Food easy to eat, but somewhat filling. “Tired, but much better than yesterday,” he told her. “I think I found a way that can keep me from being shoved out of the memory every half hour.”

“That’s good,” Lucy said, smiling sympathetically. “I know it can be difficult, doing this.”

“Yeah,” Desmond said. He shivered lightly, and looked to the server banks on the side of the room. The air conditioning kept the room frigid, if only so that the servers didn’t overheat. He looked at Lucy, who still wore her blouse, pencil skirt, and heels. “How are you not freezing?”

“Practice,” Lucy said, “And I am not standing still when you’re under. It’s not so bad, if you’re moving.”

“Speaking of moving,” Desmond said, “You think you can let me out of my room earlier? I want to keep jogging every morning if possible.”

Lucy hesitated, and then looked to Vidic. He was at his desk, doing who knows what. Desmond would like to believe that he wasn’t paying attention to them, but that was incredibly unlikely at this point. Even if Vidic was underestimating him.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucy said.

“Since I’m asking for stuff, might as well ask if you can get me some clean clothes,” Desmond added. “I promise, I’m not asking just for  _ my _ comfort here. You don’t want to learn what I smell like after a few days. Showers don’t keep my clothes clean.”

Lucy smiled amusedly. “I’ll try my best, for my own sake.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said. He focused on his sandwich, and thought.

There were rather large windows all along the back three walls. That meant it was above ground. And in a room built like this, it had to be an office space, and office meant city. And if not city, then someplace populated enough to justify building something that needed windows that large. If he could look outside, he could find out where he was.

He knew he wasn’t in New York City because there weren’t any skyscrapers visible past the window like they would be otherwise. There were buildings, yes, but nothing that reminded him of the city he had spent the last seven years in.

Lucy looked like she wanted to ask something. Desmond turned to her, and raised an eyebrow in question. “Are you really an Assassin? Like Altair?” Lucy asked.

Desmond blinked at her. Elise appeared, frowning and ready to take his spot, but Desmond shook his head. “Um, no, not really. I’m sure my parents wanted me to be, though.”

It was already proven that the Templars manipulated history. Assassins did the same, if not for the same reasons. What records they had of Altair started when he became Mentor, and it was done in a clinical and rather impersonal manner.

Altair had adjusted the hidden blade so that the ring finger wasn’t required to be cut off. He introduced several new techniques that were still in use today. He made it so that women could become hooded Assassins, instead of limited to the gardens and the Sisters, like they had been.

It was all things they planned, of course. Desmond didn’t think too hard about the cyclical nature of time travel. Altair learned the techniques with all seven of them, who in turned learned those techniques from the records Altair left behind. Altair learned of the new ways to create their hidden blades from the ones the seven of them had access to.

Lucy looked interested. “How so?”

Desmond grimaced, and finished the last bite of his sandwich as he thought. Oh, this absolutely was  _ not _ a conversation he wanted to have. Right now, or possibly even ever. Desmond left the Farm for a reason, and he never regretted it. Sure, there were times he missed it, or missed his age mates. But he had come too far, and done too much to ever  _ want _ to go back.

Maybe he could visit, one day, when he was assured that he wouldn’t be forced to stay. If only to see what he had forgotten or what he misinterpreted from when he was still a teenager. It had been nearly ten years since Desmond left, and there were things he had learned in his time away.

Still, he needed Lucy on his side, and sharing  _ some _ secrets was the way to go. “My parents wanted me to become one, but I ran away from the Farm when I was sixteen,” Desmond said. He looked off to the side, where Elise was waiting. Depending on how this went, she’d switch with him.

“Farm?” Lucy repeated.

“It’s what the place I grew up in was called,” Desmond said, shrugging. “Kind of like Masyaf, actually, if a lot smaller and less impressive architecturally. A small community, living off the grid. Not that we were an  _ actual _ farm, mind you.”

Both truth and lie. They weren’t an actual farm, and didn't tend to farmlands. They had barns and other similar buildings, and they did have gardens where they planted food. But it was all small stuff, meant to implement a diet that they got from store bought food. And the smaller, guarded plots that were used to teach the children and novices what and what wasn’t edible in the wilds.

There was even more heavily guarded gardens where the poisonous plants grew, but  _ that _ one really was a secret that Desmond shouldn’t have known about.

“But why?” Lucy asked, brow furrowed.

“Why what? That we were there at all?” Desmond asked. Lucy nodded slightly. “My father, I guess. He was always going on about our enemies, and the dangers that existed beyond the Farm. I didn’t question it until I was older, and I saw that nothing ever happened. All the warnings and the potential threats… no one came.”

Because they made it that way, and Assassins with a home territory were intense about it. They likely moved locations, too, after Desmond left. He’d be surprised if they didn’t with a potential leak out there, and the aftermath of the Purge still heavy within everyone’s thoughts.

“Then why did you run away?” Lucy asked.

Desmond snorted, and looked off to the side where Elise was standing. She smiled amusedly at him. He turned back to Lucy. She’d never, ever believe the truth, even if he  _ told _ her, no lying or misleading statements about it. But…

“I could never leave. Do you know what it’s like to know that you’re trapped like that? That there was an entire  _ world _ out there that I wouldn’t be able to see?” Desmond asked, spreading his hands wide in an effort to show what he meant.

“Don’t you miss your parents?” Lucy asked after a pause.

“No,” Desmond said simply. Elise placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt the comfort of his other selves radiating to him. No, he didn’t miss Ines and William Miles because he had  _ many _ parental figures, who knew about him and his other selves. “Far as I was concerned, they weren’t my parents. They were more like wardens, and the Farm was the prison they ran.”

Lucy glanced off to the side, expression changing slightly in an unfamiliar way. “It sounded like they only wanted to protect you.”

“If she was an Assassin given an undercover mission, then she would have been in contact with your father,” Elise said softly.

Desmond grimaced lightly. Yeah, his father was the one left in charge after the Great Purge, wasn’t he? Not that Desmond was supposed to know about the extent of the Purge either. But Lucy wasn’t wrong. His parents absolutely wanted to protect him. Didn’t excuse everything that they had done, and did, to children, but Desmond  _ understood _ why they did it all. Especially after the last Mentor had died, and everything that happened immediately after.

“Well, all that’s happened,” Desmond started, looking off to the side for a moment. “I guess I should have paid more attention.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past,” Lucy said softly.

Ah, there it was. Desmond looked at her with his second sight, and saw her color change. She had changed her thoughts about him. There was still more red than blue, but at least her blue was clearer. It was a start, at least. He’d have to get Altair to look at her properly- he still had the clearest and most nuanced second sight of the seven of them.

“It’s fine,” Desmond promised, “It gives me something to think about.”

Lucy nodded. “Well, if you’re done with lunch, we’re going to have to continue.”

“Can I at least stretch my legs a bit?” Desmond said.

Lucy glanced to side, where Vidic was. “You can have a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, and hopped off the Animus. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed as his spine popped. He set to doing several circuits around the Animus, and sent his mind along the path to where Evie was, bringing Elise with him.

Everyone was already there, watching Evie as she looked over her notes with Henry. “Hello, Desmond,” she said.

“Ah, hello Desmond,” Henry greeted, looking up in his general vicinity. “Evie has told me what you have been up to. I hope you are feeling well.”

Desmond switched with Evie. “I’m doing well, thank you Henry,” he said, smiling. “Tired and wanting to leave, but we still need information.”

“Evie has given me her notes about what was written in that place,” Henry said. “It’s actually quite interesting, what I’ve been able to find so far.”

“I’d love to hear it, but unfortunately I’ve only got a few minutes here,” Desmond said. “I’ll ask Evie later, yeah?”

“Good luck, Desmond,” Henry said.

“Thanks,” Desmond said, and switched again with Evie. He turned to Altair. “Can you tell the others what we figured out?”

Altair nodded. “I can. I’m traveling for now, so I can help with the Animus for today, at least, and then explain tonight, when you’re done for the day.”

“Right, that’s good,” Desmond said. He shifted again, and brought the group to where he was instead. Vidic was watching him with narrowed, annoyed eyes. He refrained from flipping him off, no matter that he felt like it. “I’ve got to get back in soon. Why don’t we look outside, first?”

There were a lot of windows, actually, and they were rather large. That meant this was a well off building, because windows this large were expensive to put in. Not that Abstergo was hurting for cash, really. Templars tended to group themselves with money, or made money themselves.

Ezio, being a noble, was actually an exception for Assassins.

Ezio hissed as he looked past the windows and to the street below. “The buildings surrounding this place are too tall for me to properly tell in which city we are, but this is definitely Italy.”

“Well, fuck,” Desmond said.

That explained why he had been unconscious for nearly an entire day before he woke up in the Animus. And why the others were all as worried as they were; even when they were hurt and recovering, they at least had  _ awareness _ of the other. Being drugged was one of the few ways that they couldn’t reach each other.

“This just got more complicated,” Desmond said, “Hopefully Ami was able to follow my trail, even if they killed all of her bugs on me.”

“I’d be more surprised if she didn’t,” Elise said.

“It closes options but provides other options as well,” Ezio said, looking thoughtful. “Depending on where we are, I can leave bolt holes and equipment for you. There is much that can last the ages, and will be left alone otherwise.”

“That leaves a lot on you,” Desmond said, and rubbed his arm. “Either way, I know how to act in Italy. The language has changed, but  _ Nonna _ has taught me enough.”

“We’ve got something, at least,” Aveline said. “We can plan a bit better now that we know where we are.”

“Mister Miles, if you’re done enjoying the scenery, I would appreciate if you went back to work,” Vidic called.

Desmond frowned at him, but went back to the Animus. Lucy was standing at her monitor, and smiled at him. “Are you ready, Desmond?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Desmond replied, and got back in. “Which is to say, absolutely not.”

0o0o0


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Desmond and Altair were in his prison room bed, their sides pressed together. It was another tiring day of using the Animus. So much of their connection with each other was done through their minds that reliving the memories was a special kind of exhausting.

It didn’t help that there was a completely unethical breach of privacy, with Lucy and Vidic watching. Desmond felt bad enough, and he had been there in reality for the most part.

“How are you feeling?” Evie asked, pressing a cool hand on Desmond’s forehead.

The others all started to appear as well, it being nighttime for them as well. Once again, Desmond chose to ignore the time travel aspect; even if they were all in the same time periods, they were spread out far enough that they should all be in different time zones.

“Better,” Desmond replied, leaning into her touch, “We’re both tired, but not exhausted.”

“I’ll have to show you what I do,” Altair said, “It’s complex, but not hard, I don’t think. The worst of it is keeping separate enough from Desmond that the Animus can’t get a grasp on our presence like it did before.”

“That’s good,” Aveline said. She climbed into bed and sat with her legs crossed next to Altair, running a hand through his short curls. “We can work out a shift, so that you can focus.”

“I can do tomorrow,” Jun offered. “I need to lay low for the moment.”

“Right, Jun has tomorrow. We’ll figure out who goes after her later, since our schedules tend to be fluid anyways,” Elise said.

Desmond settled further into bed, enjoying their closeness.

At least until a headache hit, and he pressed his eyes closed, his eyelids glowing red under the fluorescent lighting. He grimaced.

“Desmond?” Altair asked, turning to him.

“No, I’m fine,” Desmond said. He blinked rapidly, trying to will his tears away. “Just a sudden headache. It’s passed already.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the Animus caused it,” Elise said, frowning. “You should ask Lucy about potential side effects.”

“Other than bone crushing exhaustion?” Desmond asked tiredly.

“I suppose we should ask about potential confusion between selves,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said thoughtfully, “I doubt the previous subjects they had were used to sharing their minds with other people.”

There was an awkward pause as they all realized that.

“We all forgot, didn’t we?” Desmond asked wryly.

“...Maybe,” Ezio said.

“Okay, that’s something we can ask Lucy later,” Elise said, “Putting that aside. Do we want to go over what we learned while you two were in the Animus?”

“Might as well,” Altair said. “Since Desmond is locked in this room, he literally has nothing better to do right now.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said flatly.

With that, it was easy to follow Evie back to her office on the train. It was a rather messy space, all told, with papers scattered everywhere, all weighed down with paper weights.

“We spent the day looking into what all of these might mean,” Evie said, walking to her desk where a stack was placed to the side. “Henry was lovely enough to consolidate everything as I dictated it to him.”

“It’s not complete,” Elise added, “We only had the one day, after all. But it’s a start, and we can do more research later.”

“That’s fine,” Desmond said, leaning over the desk.

“First of all, it’s  _ terrible _ that you’re stuck here,” Evie said, poking Desmond gently in the forehead, “We’re so used to you having access to the internet and its research capabilities that we grew a  _ little _ complacent.”

“I’m sorry that I got kidnapped,” Desmond said dryly.

“It’s okay,” Elise said, tone implying exactly the opposite. Still, she smiled amusedly. “It’s just that there are several symbols and phrases that we had to set aside to be looked into later.”

“Something for me to do when I get out, then,” Desmond said. “But which ones are those?”

“Well, there’s a barcode, for one,” Evie said, and pulled out the paper with it. “A couple of others are what look like mathematical theorems, if we had to guess. One is a symbol of a mountain valley, which has  _ no _ context whatsoever attached to it. Another is a string of numbers, which reminds me of the Dewey decimal system, so it’s likely an organizational system of  _ some _ sort, even if we have no idea which kind. There are some Nazca lines, which we know  _ what _ they are, just not what they mean symbolically. Next we have Yonaguni, what must be Mount Fuji, some  _ torii, _ and some pagodas, all referencing Japan. The last isn’t so much unknown as much as we simply don’t have the proper context to understand what it implies. The one about the Answers.”

“Other than the fact that Emperor Jiajing’s sins are too numerous to count,” Jun said flatly.

“Well, yes, other than that,” Elise said. “But even with the ones that we don’t know, or couldn’t figure out, the rest of the symbols and words are somewhat enlightening.”

“So, what do you have?” Desmond asked.

“That Abstergo wants to rule the world and brainwash people, likely with the Apple, but we already knew that,” Ezio said.

“Well, yes. But we meant specifically,” Altair said.

“Well, starting in the room with the Animus,” Evie said, and pulled several sheets from the main pile. “First if the Eye of Providence. This particular version is used in Christianity, where the emphasis is placed on the triangle in reference to the holy trinity.”

“Divine providence,” Evie said, “Which ties into the Animus. One could imagine that watching people’s lives as intimately as the Animus lets you would be a version of it.”

“Considering it was placed at the head of the Animus, the reference is clear,” Aveline said.

Evie nodded, “Next, we’ve got the Pentagram, with it pointing to the Animus. Easy enough, it implies that the Animus is being used for evil purposes. Most common version is used in Satanic rituals, though that’s more recent comparatively to all of our timelines.”

“It’s also a reference to Venus,” Altair said. He blinked as they turned to him. “If you observe the path that Venus takes in the sky, and draw it out, it becomes a pentagram. Not the pointed star like this, but a pentagram all the same.”

“Yeah, but it being associated with Satanic rituals is what it’s known for in my time,” Desmond said.

Evie frowned, but made note. “Still, with everything else we’ve figured, we can’t discount the possible double meaning. If Altair was so quick to point out that Venus was associated with the pentagram, then there’s no reason to think that the previous subject didn’t know it as well.”

“Then, would the double meaning be tied to each other, or just used to mention something different?” Desmond asked.

“That’s something we can look into later,” Elise said.

“Right,” Evie said, nodding. “Next is the Borromean rings.”

“Impossibility and unity,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Considering what the Animus does, that makes sense.”

“The Eye of Horus,” Evie said, “It’s a symbol of protection, royal power, and good health. It’s also meant to protect the Pharaoh in the afterlife, and used to ward off evil. It was placed near the entrance to the lab, so…”

“Simple enough,” Desmond said, “For their sake, I hope it worked.”

“Yeah,” Evie agreed, “Next, there are three triangles here that was placed near the Eye of Horus. Best guess we have right now is that they’re the Pyramids of Giza.”

“There are rumors of a Piece of Eden, as well as Assassin artifacts placed in Egypt,” Elise said.

“It’s likely. The first mentions of Assassins we have were around that time period,” Altair said, “And we believe that is when the Order was created. Or what would become the Order.”

“Next symbol is of a step pyramid, also near the entrance to the lab,” Evie said.

“Step pyramids are a physically stable way of building tall structures,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Different cultures from around the world developed the style independently of each other. We do not have any in the region where my people are, but there are several both to the West and to the South of us.”

“Next- well, we ignored the barcode, but it had a date underneath it, which is December twenty-first, two thousand and twelve,” Evie said.

“The end of the world,” Desmond said, “there are already people that are preparing doomsday bunkers.”

“Isn’t the world supposed to end several times over between my time and yours?” Altair asked, eyebrow raised.

“At  _ least _ twenty times,” Desmond confirmed, “But people are more worried about this, with the whole Mayan Calendar thing.”

“And no one stopped to think that the reason the Calendar stopped being made was because the Spanish arrived in South America?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked dryly.

“Nope,” Desmond said.

“Moving on,” Evie said amusedly, “The last of the symbols, before we get to the letters in the main room, is actually the Templar’s plan. It’s a pyramid filled with eyes, all looking at an apple. You have three guesses on what it means.”

“How shocking,” Aveline said, and rolled her eyes. “What about the letters, then?”

“The square says, going bottom to top, right to left,  _ artefacts sent to the skies to control all nations, to make us a hidden crusade. Do not help them. _ It’s placed next to the pyramid with the apple, so…”

“I don’t get it, Evie,” Ezio said dryly, “Please, tell me, what does it mean?”

Evie rolled her eyes at him. “The triangle… well,” she sighed, and Desmond and Altair looked to them. This one was slightly more serious then. “It’s from the previous subject. It says, bottom to top, right to left,  _ they drained my soul and made it theirs. I drained my body to show you where I saw it. _ It was placed at the foot of the Animus.”

Desmond sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. “I’m going to have to learn their name, if only to give them  _ something _ when I get out of here.”

“They deserve a memorial, at least,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed softly.

“What did they see, though?” Altair asked. “Literally, I take it to mean where they found their soul. But with everything else they left behind, it can’t just be that.”

“Something that made doing  _ all _ of this worth it in the end,” Evie said grimly, waving her hand over the papers.

“It has to be,” Jun said.

“Is that it for the main room?” Desmond asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Evie said. She gathered the papers, set them aside, and then picked up the rest of the pile. “Next we have your room. These are probably the most important ones. They wanted to be absolutely certain that you could see it.”

“Especially since I’m locked in,” Desmond said.

“Like I said before, we don’t know what the curved symbol or the clam-like shapes are, other than something to do with maths,” Evie said. “Nor do we recognize the string of numbers, or what the Answers reference.”

“Which we won’t know until you’re out,” Elise said.

“But what we do know is… a lot, actually,” Evie said, “the Hebrew is  _ Olam Haba.” _

“The World to Come,” Altair translated, “The world which will exist after the messiah arrives on Earth. It’s Jewish.”

“Right,” Evie agreed. “We’ve got the phrase,  _ we are all books containing thousands of pages and within each of them lies an irreparable truth.” _

“They were an Animus subject too,” Desmond said thoughtfully, “And we’ve seen that the genetic memories are accurate. It’s odd, because there are details that I don’t remember, if only because I didn’t  _ need _ to, or  _ couldn’t, _ remember it all.”

“Living the life of an ancestor through your DNA is odd,” Ezio pointed out. “Besides, Templars alter history as they see fit, and quite drastically too. Yet the Animus and the genetic memories show it as it happened exactly.”

“We also have a reference to the Bible, like I thought,” Evie said, “It’s Revelations thirteen, verses sixteen through eighteen. They’re about the mark of the beast.”

“Another method of control, like the Apple,” Aveline said, “Since it says that one isn’t allowed to buy or sell anything without the mark.”

“There’s another holy book reference,” Evie said, “This time, to the Quran.  _ Al-Zalzala.” _

“The Earthquake,” Altair translated, “and Sura ninety-nine, I think? To paraphrase, when the world ends, people will be separated and taken to show their deeds, and they will see whether or not they did good or evil.”

“Next we have the omega symbol, with numbers across from it,” Evie said, “Considering that we already had references to two holy books, we looked into it, and it matched. Revelations twenty-two, verse thirteen.  _ I am alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.” _

“Meant to describe God’s ultimate power over the world, of course,” Ezio said. “Completely understandable, as a wish-fulfillment for the Templars.”

“The last phrase in English is from the previous subject. Considering what it says, I’d assume that it’s the last one they wrote,” Evie said.

“The rest I translated this morning,” Jun said, “They all seem to be in reference to the world and how humans perceive it individually.”

“So,” Desmond said, looking between them all, “Any theories on what it all means?”

“The end of the world is important,” Elise said, “With several different references to it, both the event itself and what happens  _ after.” _

“Controlling humanity,” Aveline said, “The mark of the beast, the omega symbol, and the Templar’s plan itself.”

“Unity,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said simply. “There were several man-made structures, and it took cooperation to have those built. It could be either positive or negative, since the Templar’s wish to control the people.”

“Well,” Desmond said, thinking it over, “Even if it’s only just theories right now, it’s rather bleak, all said together like that.”

* * *

_ Altair watched the Hospital. He very carefully did not use his second sight to do so; he had made the mistake previously, when he first arrived, and it had nearly blinded him. Not the colors and the information provided, but because it was here that he realized that the second sight gave him the ability to  _ see _ sickness. And the Hospital was saturated with that sickly yellow-green color. If he didn’t have so much control over his body, Altair would have thrown up. _

_ Garnier was a monster, and he needed to die. Even without the command given to him by Al Mualim, Altair would have likely done it himself. Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn’t even visit properly while Altair sat here, as he had the most sensitive nose of them all, and that was how his second sight gave him the knowledge of the sickness. _

_ “I’d ask you to assassinate him just to get that place cleaned properly,” Elise grimaced, looking over everything. She was the only one that could stand being there longer than a moment. “Here and now, they still believe that God protects them from illnesses born of filth.” _

_ “Who could we put in Garnier’s place?” Altair asked. It was a good idea. There was merit in getting a Hospital properly running, even a Templar one. _

_ “I have no idea,” Elise said. “There will be a power vacuum here afterwards. Depending on how the assassinations Al Mualim assigned to you go, we might be able to put someone we can trust to know what they’re doing in charge.” _

_ “It wouldn’t be up to the standards of Desmond’s time, but it would still be better than what is going on now,” Altair said. _

_ “It would take years to send one of the Masyaf healers, garden or otherwise, and we were already placing priority on the Bureaus in the other cities,” Elise said. She eyed the building, this time thoughtfully. “But most of our plans are in the years range anyways, right?” _

_ “Right,” Altair agreed, “That’s an idea. Desmond has access to doctors and medicinal information from around the world. When we establish the doctors in the Bureaus, we might start a plan to be able to have one placed in the Hospital.” _

_ “If we could get one of the women of the garden, who know us and trust us, and that we know and trust in return, we might even be able to put a Templar in place,” Elise mused. “It’d take more work, but it would last longer, I feel.” _

_ “It would,” Altair said. He hummed as motion caught his eye. He looked very briefly with his second sight, just enough to note the white glow of information. Elise put her hand on his shoulder to steady him from the sickly smoke he had also unfortunately seen. “There is one I need to trail. Perhaps we can learn how the Knights here feel about Garnier. This might be less bloody than we thought beforehand.” _

_ “We can only hope.” _

* * *

Lucy looked tired when Desmond was let out of the Animus for his lunch break. It was an actual bowl of chicken and noodles this time, and he raised an eyebrow at it.

“Wow, you didn’t have to splurge on me. Thanks, Lucy,” Desmond said as he grabbed the warm bowl, almost too hot to the touch. Because even if it was rather generic, it  _ was _ pretty nice compared to some cold sandwiches. “Think you can go and grab some alcohol too? I’ll mix you a cocktail. After dealing with good old Doctor Vidic, you deserve it.”

Lucy smiled at him. “I appreciate the offer, Desmond. But I think that’s a little beyond what I can do for you.”

“Even do for yourself?” Desmond asked.

“You’re not the only one with restrictions placed on them,” Lucy said, and rolled her eyes slightly.

“I think there’s a difference between me being kidnapped off the street and forced into machine and what you do here, Lucy,” Desmond said mildly.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lucy said softly.

That was an honest answer. Desmond eyed her as he slurped at some noodles. Hm. He could push a little, he felt. “Why do you even work for Vidic, anyways? He doesn’t seem like a good guy to work for. Like, at all.”

“He’s normally a lot more polite,” Lucy defended, “He’s just under a lot of stress, right now.”

“This is how he acts when he’s stressed?” Desmond asked, “I don’t know if it’s a good mark of character that when he’s under pressure he turns into a condescending, overbearing, elitist piece of crap, you know.”

“He saved my life,” Lucy said softly, glancing where Vidic was at his desk. “I was going to be killed, because I wanted to talk about the Animus. It proved a lot of my own theories correct, and I was excited to to show everyone who said I was just preaching fake science,” Lucy sighed, and tapped the table with her fingertips. “Unfortunately, Abstergo is really invested in keeping the projects under development a secret. I truly thought I was going to die. But before they could take me out, Warren stopped them.”

“He did that?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Lucy said, “So, I know he can be… hard, to like. But don’t be so quick to judge him, Desmond. He really is a good man.”

“Maybe,” Desmond said slowly. “I still don’t like him.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Lucy said.

Desmond hummed nocommitically.

“So that’s how they got her to betray the Assassins,” Evie said. “It wasn’t just having her cut off from them, it was instilling a sense of both betrayal on the Assassin’s part and being saved by the Templars.”

“Ask her about the Animus itself,” Jun said.

“So, you helped make the Animus?” Desmond asked curiously.

“I did,” Lucy said proudly, smiling at him, perking up quickly. “Or at least several versions of it; it’s been in use for much longer than I’ve worked at Abstergo. But for the past three years, I designed a lot of the hardware and the operating systems, and helped with the programs that help bring the memories to life. It’s being updated constantly still, but this is the one-point-oh, the first of what I call the beta stage.”

“That’s amazing, Lucy,” Desmond said.

It really, really was. She was a computer technician, computer programmer, knew technical design, knew neuroscience, and could combine all of it into a workable profession. And as much as he hated to admit it, Lucy wouldn’t have had the ability to do any of it without Abstergo. For as terrible a company as it was, it used its influence and power to bring more workers and resources in. Templars did enjoy acquiring the best of the best, after all.

“Thank you,” Lucy said, smiling lightly, but completely sincerely. “It took some hard work and a lot of doubt to get here, but I’m rather proud of what I’ve accomplished.”

“Oh, I like her,” Elise said, studying Lucy, “Can we keep her? I know we just want her on our side to get out of here and away from Abstergo, but I  _ like _ her.”

“She is rather impressive,” Evie agreed.

Desmond hid a smile by eating the rest of his noodles. He liked Lucy, too.

* * *

That evening, when Desmond was let out for the day, he found himself rather sluggish. It wasn’t that his body was tired, though it certainly felt it. No, this was mental exhaustion. His brain was having some trouble sending the proper commands to his limbs.

“Desmond, how are you feeling?” Lucy asked. She held out her hands, as if she was going to help him sit up. She didn’t though. Desmond sat up easily enough on his own.

“Tired,” Desmond replied, and rubbed at his eyes. They were sort of crusty; even if he wasn’t truly sleeping, it seemed like his eyes produced mucus anyways.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked, voice slightly off somehow.

“Yeah?” Desmond said.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Desmond asked curiously. “I mean, I’m tired, but it’s not so bad. I just need some sleep.”

Lucy looked worriedly at him. “Desmond, you’re not speaking English.”

Desmond blinked at her, thrown. “Oh, sorry,” he said, switching tracks. “Being in the memories must have confused me. Am I speaking English now?”

“Yes,” Lucy said, relieved. “Confused you? Most others would be alarmed at suddenly speaking another language.”

Desmond raised an eyebrow. “You sure your file on me is actually complete? I’m Hispanic, Lucy. I grew up speaking Spanish alongside English.”

Lucy flushed lightly with embarrassment. “Oh, it mentioned that you knew another language. But I speak a little bit of Spanish, and that definitely wasn’t it.”

“Then what was I speaking?” Desmond asked. He glanced at the others, who shrugged. They all heard each other in their native language. It took effort to  _ not _ understand each other.

“Um,” Lucy hesitated, and glanced at Vidic, who was once again busy with something else. “It sounded like Arabic, honestly.”

“Oh,” Desmond said. “That makes sense, I guess.” He had been in Altair’s memories, after all. He was surprised it didn’t happen more often.

“Do you speak Arabic?” Lucy asked curiously. Her brow was furrowed in worry still.

“Some,” Desmond said. He rubbed his arm. He actually started learning when he was eight or nine. It was through his efforts that they learned how to separate themselves enough that they could learn each other’s language independently. “I learned when I was younger.”

“Did your parents make you learn?” Lucy asked. Ah, yes, he did say that his parents wanted him to be ‘like Altair’. Not a stretch to think that included the language.

“No,” Desmond said, shrugging. “I mean, we learned some phrases and stuff, enough to know how to say it and read it. But I chose to learn Arabic on my own.”

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“Ah,” Desmond thought back. He wanted to learn because of Altair, actually. “I met someone, when I was eight, who didn’t speak English or Spanish, but knew Arabic. I wanted to learn so that I could talk with them.”

“Oh,” Lucy said. Her expression turned soft at the explanation.

“Ask about the side effects,” Jun said, “Because it seems to me that she’s not  _ surprised _ that you could be speaking a different language. Worried, yes, but not surprised.”

“Is suddenly learning a new language a side effect of using the Animus?” Desmond asked.

Lucy hesitated. “...Yes. It’s a concern. Bringing the genetic memories forward constantly makes it possible that they blend with your real-time memories. Mildly, it can lead to speaking different languages.”

“Mildly?” Desmond repeated, “What happens when it gets worse?”

“Hallucinations are likely,” Lucy admitted, “As the brain is unable to differentiate between your own memories and your ancestral memories. In the worst case scenarios, the genetic memories can completely overwhelm a person and make them believe they  _ are _ their ancestors.”

Desmond stared at her, and his own mild horror brought the everyone else that wasn’t already there to the room.

“Is that what happened to the previous subjects?” Desmond asked darkly, “I’m subject seventeen, right? Did the previous sixteen subjects all lose their minds?”

Lucy blinked back tears. “Not all of them, but many, yes. Some of them did experience some mild hallucinations, but were released without any further problems.”

“Mostly truth,” Altair declared, watching her with golden eyes. “She is truly upset about it, though. Her thoughts turned to the symbols on the floor.”

Desmond looked at Lucy, then took a deep breath. “You know what, I’m not even going to bother getting angry about it. I’m doing good so far, and it’s not like I  _ can _ do anything else. I’m stuck here after all.”

“I’m sorry, Desmond,” Lucy said softly.

Yeah, Desmond was too.

0o0o0


	4. Chapter 4

“So we can assume that Sixteen had a Chinese ancestor,” Desmond mused, arm pressed over his eyes. He had a headache again. Which may or may not be because the Animus was messing with his brain. And wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

They also had something to call the the one who painted the symbols, instead of just referring to them as ‘the previous subject’. Sixteen wasn’t that much better, a number instead of a name, but at least it was  _ something. _ Maybe they could get Lucy to talk about them eventually?

Though in this case, she wasn’t keeping information from Desmond just for secrecy, but actual trauma regarding the situation. If she was the one to find Sixteen’s body and the blood on the floor… yeah, Desmond would give her some time.

“They likely did,” Jun said. “The way they wrote was fluent, and had some regional writing quirks. People who learn Chinese as a second language don’t do that. And this is assuming that they are not Chinese in the first place. Abstergo has already proven that they can transport people across the world.”

“Sixteen was also intelligent, or very well read. Likely both,” Elise said, “Much of what they wrote included symbols, math, and verses from religious texts. If we consider the Bleeding Effect, sure, Sixteen could have learned some of it from their ancestors’ memories. But that’s a low probability.”

“Desmond?” Altair asked concernedly, weight settling on the bed as he appeared.

Desmond pulled his arm away from his eyes and grabbed Altair’s hand. “I’m reliving your memories,” he said.

“Yes,” Altair said, eyebrows raised. “I know, I was there.”

“No, it’s not that-” Desmond started, and then sighed. “What do you guys see, when I’m in the Animus?”

Altair and Jun glanced at each other. “It’s like we’re visiting,” Jun said, “But in the memory. You don’t see or hear us at all, we’re just along for the ride. Like a movie.”

“Yeah, I wish it was like that for me,” Desmond said, “I’m  _ reliving _ the memory. When I’m synched enough to move forward, I’m not Desmond, playing with the computer model version of Altair. I  _ am _ Altair, remembering.”

“Well,” Altair said, and squeezed Desmond’s han in return. “That is. Something for sure.”

“You’ve been confusing languages,” Jun said, repeating what Desmond had told Lucy before.

“Sixteen went insane,” Desmond said, and waved his free hand at the wall above his head. He really didn’t care if the cameras saw him right now. Let them think he had a nightmare. “They remained  _ themselves _ enough to do this, but they still went mad.”

“We’re here,” Jun said, and pressed closer to them both. Another heartbeat, and the others all arrived as well, pulled in the need of comfort. “And we are helping, aren’t we?”

“You are,” Desmond said, smiling at them all. “And you’re keeping me grounded to myself. But if you  _ weren’t _ here… if I was by myself…” he trailed off.

“You are plenty strong, but you are the most easy going and adaptive of us,” Evie said, combing her hand through Desmond’s hair.

“It’d be easy to just… go along, with Altair’s memories, wouldn’t it?” Aveline asked.

“Especially here, isolated from anyone that could keep you anchored,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

There was a pause before Elise said, “That’s also part of their plan, isn’t it? They were going to use the Bleeding Effect to further manipulate you. Lucy makes a very pleasing and stable target to focus on.”

“I think she’d be sincere in her attempts to help,” Evie said, frowning, “She really does feel terribly about what happened to Sixteen, and likely prior subjects.”

“It’s just that it wouldn’t stop her from using it to further gain my trust,” Desmond said. Evie nodded.

“I still like her,” Elise said, sighing heavily. “She is brilliant, and has a wonderful personality.”

“We can still keep her,” Desmond said dryly, “It might even be easier, since we both have her sympathy and her pity.”

“I don’t like being pitied,” Altair grumbled.

“Too bad, we’re already showing we’re going to go insane,” Aveline said, and poked him in the side.

Desmond snorted down laughter. Wow, he was tired. “We can worry about the state of my mind later. I’m exhausted, and there’s not much else we can do now.”

“We’re all here, so we may as well sleep together,” Evie said. “It’ll be a tight fit, but who cares?”

* * *

The next morning, Desmond stared at the closet door. It had been opened, revealing spare sets of clothes on the shelves. And its contents were just a little disturbing. The jeans, he could understand, as well as the spare shoes. Even the dark gray shirt was generic. But the hoodie was… well.

“I don’t know if they intend to creep me out or not,” Desmond said out loud.

His hoodie wasn’t uncommon, since he had bought it in a store. But it was a rather niche hoodie design, truth be told. Desmond adored it, of course, but there were limits.

“They’re absolutely covered in bugs,” Evie said, eyeing them.

Which they were. In the seams and waistband of the jeans, in the collar and the hem of the shirts, imbedded in the soles of the shoes, and in the toes of the socks. Strangely, other than the trackers put in the lining of the hoodies, they were conspicuously absent otherwise. Probably because hoodies could be taken off and discarded more easily.

“I don’t know if they mean to imply that you can escape or not,” Ezio said, looking over the clothes.

“It could be a  _ just in case _ situation,” Evie mused, “Because even Abstergo has to follow building codes, which would let Desmond leave in case of an emergency.”

“Building codes are different in Italy,” Ezio assured them.

“And how would you know?” Desmond asked him, eyebrow raised. “I was never particularly interested in building codes of other countries.”

Ezio rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. But Italians are stubborn, yes? With all the ruins everywhere, building codes are different.”

“Unfortunately, you did ask for spare clothes,” Evie said. “And you do need a shower.” Because, for some reason, he still built up a sweat even when he did nothing but lie on his back all day.

Desmond sighed and grabbed spares. He fiddled with the hem a little, and- ah, good. He could take the bugs out, though it’d leave the clothing a bit frayed. Though he would be keeping his own shoes, thank you very much. “Right. At least they left the underwear alone.”

And Desmond did feel a bit better in clean clothes. The bugs were artfully placed, and he didn’t even notice them when he put the clothes on. He could sense them, of course, his second sight pointed them out to him at all times. But at least they were good clothes. He carefully didn’t think about who would be washing them.

Maybe they had a maid service? Though he had no idea what the background check for that would be like.

“Good morning, Desmond,” Lucy greeted when he left his room. She wore a differently colored shirt today. A soft blue instead of the off white. It flattered her complexion and brightened her eyes.

“Morning, Lucy,” Desmond said. “I didn’t know you owned different clothing,” he teased gently.

Lucy blinked, and relaxed. Ah, so she  _ was _ still a bit tense from their conversation last night. “I always did, I promise.”

“I see that now,” Desmond said. “Anyways, thanks for the spare clothes. Though I do wonder how you got so many copies of the same hoodie.”

Desmond sat on the Animus, and grabbed a muffin off of the breakfast tray. There were a couple of large muffins and an egg sandwich, as well as two plastic cups of juice. That was a rather large breakfast comparatively, wasn’t it?

“I wasn’t actually in charge of getting you clothes,” Lucy admitted, “But- the same hoodie?”

“I’ve had that hoodie for a few years now,” Desmond said dryly, “I hope I could recognize it by now.”

Lucy looked amused, and nodded in agreement. She looked like she was about to say something when Vidic arrived.

“Time’s wasting, Mister Miles, Miss Stillman,” he said. Wow, he sounded in an even worse mood than usual. “Hurry and finish your breakfast, and we’ll get started. You have a longer session planned today, Mister Miles.”

Desmond glanced between Vidic and the large breakfast. Well, that explained that at least. He looked to Lucy, who smiled somewhat guiltily. “What do you mean, a longer session?”

“You are not going as quickly as we’d like, due to your rather abysmal synchronization rate,” Vidic said, “And my superiors are rather impatient for results. To increase the rate till we reach the memory we are looking for, you will be spending longer in the Animus.”

“Oh, you smarmy-” Elise trailed off into muttering several rather intense French curse words.

“Do I have to?” Desmond asked petulantly.

“Either this or the coma, Mister Miles,” Vidic said.

“Fine,” Desmond said.

Elise increased how many curse words she threw at Vidic with Desmond’s silent prodding, because  _ someone _ had to express their combined irritation. Huh, Elise was more incensed than she normally was. He’d have to ask her what was wrong, later. Desmond was so focused on dealing with the Animus that he’d been practically ignoring the others.

“Well, I’m the one going to help you today,” Aveline said, frowning. “I’m free, so the longer session won’t be a problem for me today. But it might be for the others.”

“We’ll deal with it when we get to it,” Elise said.

Desmond sighed, and finished eating his breakfast.

* * *

_ “Something is wrong,” Altair said softly as he gazed into the distance. _

_ Masyaf was his. He had an eagle in his heart and mind that shared its sight with him, and all of Altair’s instincts told him that he belonged here. This place was his to watch over. _

_ And there was something completely and utterly  _ wrong. _ It was like the edge of a blade poised over the back of his neck. Like the gaze of a pack of hungry wolves. Altair bristled internally at it, as if anything dared to even pretend that they were greater than he. _

_ Altair sighed, and made himself still. He pushed his irritation and rage into a thin blade of  _ focus, _ and found himself calm again, able to think clearly separately from the eagle. _

_ “Al Mualim sent you on missions that have little to do with the Order,” Ezio said. _

_ “They were all terrible men, and were planning terrible things,” Altair said. _

_ It wasn’t a defense, but rather an admittance. Because Altair would have chosen to do those assassinations himself, were he to find out their true natures, and what they intended to do to people, on his own time. _

_ “We would never have found out about him if they hadn’t told us while they died,” Desmond said. “That you had an enemy so close to you.” _

_ Altair closed his eyes. It was an uneasy thought, the idea of betrayal. Especially from the man that led them all. He had been the Mentor for as long as Altair could remember. For the Old Man on the Mountain to be the enemy- _

_ “I’m sorry,” Aveline said softly, and gripped his hand, sympathetic and understanding. She, who was still the most similar to Altair even after all these years. Desmond shared his appearance, but Aveline shared his heart. _

_ “Still, we can  _ use _ this,” Elise said. Always so pragmatic, even as she filled with rage at the betrayal. “It was assumed that you would become Mentor after Al Mualim, even if it took years. It’s why we made all the plans we did.” _

_ “I’m not sure we planned on Altair becoming Mentor by disposing of the old one,” Desmond said dryly. _

_ “But we cannot let him continue,” Altair said, and opened his eyes. The eagle screeched in rage and intention; a declaration that he was defending his territory, and clearing it of trespassers. Mayhaps his heart would reach those still free within the walls, to bolster their convictions as Assassins, as those who defended free will. “I need to speak with Isra, and with Rauf.” _

_ And Malik. They would need his help for this. _

* * *

That night, something drew Desmond’s attention back to the closet. He didn’t know what prompted him to, but he looked through the stacks and- there was a piece of paper with codes written on it. He glanced at them, and then at the door. He focused a little on the paper, trying to get the sense of who gave it to him.

_ Lucy _ .

It felt like Lucy. So, here she was, giving him freedom. He had asked to be let out of the room, if only to stretch his legs properly. He didn’t think he implied in any way that she should give him access to leave his room when they weren’t there.

Desmond didn’t know if she was left to get his trust on her own terms, or if Vidic had given her the order.

“She does very well in toeing the line between truly wanting to help you, and wanting to gain your trust to manipulate you,” Aveline observed.

On the one hand, Desmond absolutely was going to do laps in the Animus room. He needed the exercise, and hopefully it’d help with the Bleeding Effect headaches. He might not be losing himself to the memories, but the Animus was still messing with his brain. And exercise, even just a brisk walk, would help him. The added freedom would help him, because Lucy definitely didn’t  _ want _ to hurt him.

On the other, there were cameras everywhere and they clearly wanted to see what he would do. Sure, it might be pragmatic in the long run, giving him a taste of freedom to make him more compliant. But still, it was a way to observe his behaviors and to see what he did. They were adding to the profile they already had on him.

“May as well look outside more clearly,” Ezio said, “There are windows all along the wall, and it wasn’t like I had the chance to look around properly.”

“It’s dark outside now,” Desmond said.

Ezio grinned. “We are  _ Assassins, _ Desmond. I know what Italy looks like under the cover of the night.”

“Okay,” Desmond said, laughing softly. “Let’s try these out, yeah? Despite everything, it’ll be nice to stretch my legs.”

With that said, he memorized the numbers on the paper and put them back on the shelf. He could flush it down the toilet later. He pressed the code into the keypad, and sighed in relief when the light flashed green. The door opened with a smooth  _ swwsh, _ and Desmond stepped out of his prison room.

Desmond stepped out of the room carefully. He wouldn’t put it past Vidic to place security here the night he had the codes, if only to shove Desmond back in. Vidic definitely would use his perceived escape to restrict Desmond’s freedom even further.

Nothing. That was good. He eyed the exit, wondering if he should even try. Eh, he’d rather not, there was no reason to. But… they were out of the room, now. Desmond  _ tugged, _ and drew all of his other selves here.

The emergency overhead lights lit the room well enough to see by, though everything was that much more dim. The air conditioning was still on, a droning sound, but this late at night it was focused on the server banks instead of the entire room.

The deep shadows in the corners of the room only highlighted how  _ tall _ and expansive the room was. Other than the Animus, Vidic’s desk, and the server banks, the room was devoid of anything.

“Well, here we are,” Desmond said. “Lucy gave me the codes to leave the room.”

“As expected, though she did it earlier than we thought she would,” Elise said.

“She’ll probably escalate what she gives us,” Evie said. “Start with just letting you out of the room to see what you do.”

“Window, Desmond,” Ezio said, walking there.

“I’d tell you it’s nighttime, but you’re an Assassin,” Elise said dryly, and followed him.

“Of course, love,” Ezio agreed.  _ “Desmond _ had to be reminded though.”

“Oh, shame on you, Desmond,” Elise called back to him. “Shame!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” Desmond replied, walking to the windows.

As he did, the six others looked around the room with their second sight, making notes of the architecture. How one room was built was generally how the other rooms were built. And knowing how a building was built was one of the ways to maneuver within. Anything to help Desmond’s eventual escape.

Ezio looked out of them, frowning. They did a slow circuit past the windows, and Ezio peered at everything with his second sight.

“... I think this is Rome,” Ezio said after studying the buildings. “I haven’t been to Rome, so that is why I did not immediately recognize it.”

“We’re in Rome?” Desmond asked.

He looked out the windows, as if he would recognize it this time. Well, at least he could spend time searching for and memorizing all of the paths that they could run once they were out of the building. It looked like they were on the fourth floor, if he was judging the distance right.

“There’s something about it that’s just familiar,” Ezio said thoughtfully. “I don’t know how to explain it. Deja vu, maybe?”

“Well, you are planning on going to Rome in the future, right?” Desmond asked. “And this is the future. We already get enough of a headache with the time travel, might as well get nostalgia for a place you haven’t visited yet personally, but have been to several centuries ago here.”

Ezio made a face at that, but nodded. He looked outside again. “I have cleared out my schedule for tomorrow, so I will be with you. I am planning for a longer session like today, but hopefully it won’t be.”

“Vidic is an asshole, though, so we know it’ll be a longer session,” Elise sighed.

“Unfortunately,” Desmond agreed. He stretched his arms above his head. “It’s getting late, and today wasn’t any less exhausting.”

“We’re doing well, I feel,” Aveline said, and came up to them, rubbing at her arms. “Especially the time crunch that we’re on with Altair.”

“We didn’t have choose when Abstergo found you, but they did choose to kidnap you at a very annoying time,” Altair sighed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Desmond said, grimacing.

Honestly, with the way the Animus affected him, and needed another of them to keep him stable, it split their attention. They were all efficient enough not to require constant watching and help, yes, but being  _ together _ made things easier.

“Really not your fault,” Evie said, poking him in the side. “Anyways, it’s late. Do your laps and then go to bed.”

“Yes, mother,” Desmond said.

* * *

_ Malik and Kadar were hidden in the gardens. Considering the ordeal that they both had been put through in Jerusalem, the Assassins accepted the fact that the women were taking care of them. It was even true, for the most part. Their bodies were still healing, and so were their hearts. _

_ It also made it so that they were at hand when Altair led Rauf to the gardens and past them to the inner courtyard. Only the most trusted were allowed within that place. Not even Al Mualim was allowed there without express permission. Which, of course, was why they were having their meeting there. _

_ “Well,” Rauf said, looking around the courtyard, curious despite himself. He had stiffened in surprise when he saw where Altair was leading him. Very few Brothers even knew the inner courtyard even existed. “I was curious before. Now I am worried.” _

_ “Altair, what’s going on?” Kadar asked plaintively. He had become incredibly blunt about asking questions after he had finally asked Altair what he was hiding from him. Curiosity was something to be celebrated, after all. _

_ “I would like to know as well,” Isra said, eyebrows raised as she looked over them. She was folding clean bandages as she waited with them. _

_ The only other women there was Hawa, the one Isra was training to take over after her, and who they were hoping to be Altair’s partner within the gardens. Unlike Al Mualim, who was distant from Isra, Altair and Hawa were hoping to bring the women of the gardens more in line with the Brothers. They all needed the cross training. _

_ “I have allowed you to hold your meeting here because you said it was important. But I would like to know what it is about,” Isra said. _

_ Malik and Rauf both turned to look at Altair in surprise. They knew he visited the gardens often, but had thought it was to discuss what missions he went on as a Master. Many thought it was because he spoke here that Altair was as quiet as he was. _

_ To have the Master of the Gardens speak so informally to Altair, nevermind trusting him enough to allow him to call the meeting in the first place, would be shocking. _

_ Altair shrugged. His other selves all arrived, at his shoulder and past. This was a conversation that they all needed to be a part of, though his other selves would be in the back. Masyaf was  _ his, _ and though they shared their hearts, minds, and souls, Altair would always take the lead here. _

_ “I am planning a coup,” Altair said simply. _

_ There was silence from the ones in front of him. Aveline giggled behind him at their reactions. Isra sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, while Hawa looked caught between outrage and sheer laughter. Rauf blinked wide eyes at him, startled into silence. Kadar looked at Altair, shocked, but then shrugged, rolling with the punches as he always did. _

_ Malik was silent and blank faced. Yet Altair could see the incoming tirade, red smoke gathering around his frame as he got ready to yell. He waited for just a moment and then- ah, yes. There Malik went, cursing up a storm. _

_ There were some rather inventive threats in there, and some colorful interpretations about Altair’s lineage. _

_ Altair could feel Desmond and Ezio making some mental notes about some of them. Kadar didn’t even blink, though he did look thoughtful. Rauf turned to Malik, eyebrows raised. Hawa started laughing. And Isra just continued to hold the bridge of her nose. _

_ It would take some time for Malik to calm down enough to actually discuss what Altair was saying. _

_ Altair waited patiently; he knew Malik near as well as he knew his other selves, and Malik would help. He likely had noticed some troubles brewing long before Altair did. He just needed to vent some steam. _

* * *

“You’re doing well, Desmond,” Lucy said.

Desmond was  _ finally _ allowed out for his midday break, which was around three instead of noon. He was given an egg sandwich and a small cup of juice to scarf down before he would be put back into the Animus. Ezio appeared next to him, eating some trail mix, taking this as his own food break as well.

“They don't see us at all, do they?” Ezio asked, “In the Animus, I mean. It’s not like we left Altair alone for long in the last few months.”

Desmond shrugged lightly, and drank his juice. It wasn’t much of a meal, but Lucy had told him that he’d be getting a larger dinner to make up for it. He honestly didn’t care at the moment. The Animus made him  _ tired. _ Sure, he wasn’t hallucinating, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t being affected at all.

Ezio sighed and sat on the Animus, and leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Desmond leaned right back, and didn’t care that it probably looked like he was listing to the side. He savored the contact, and the lazy loop that started up between them.

Being stuck and isolated was hard, no matter that he had his other selves there. He had gotten used to being around  _ his people, _ the ones who had become his family in New York.

“You’ve only been here for five days and you’re already getting to be in bad shape,” Ezio said into Desmond’s hair, and held Desmond tighter.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked quietly, looking worriedly at him.

Desmond blinked and turned to her. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re falling asleep,” Lucy said.

“I’m fine,” Desmond said.

Lucy raised an eyebrow and he tried again, this time in English. He might have used a slightly outdated British accent as he drew on Evie to make sure he spoke the right language, but at least it was English. Even if Lucy did blink in confusion at the sudden change in accent.

Dammit all, but he really was mixing up languages. He was normally very aware of which language he spoke in. And that was a problem, because he had people depending on him for his language skills in New York.

If he couldn’t keep his languages straight, then he couldn’t protect them as well.

Lucy’s brow furrowed, and she glanced between him and Vidic. “I’ll try to see if we can shorten the sessions,” she said.

“I’d appreciate it, Lucy,” Desmond said.

“We all would,  _ bella,” _ Ezio said, for all that Lucy couldn’t hear him.

Fuck, but they needed to escape. Desmond wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

0o0o0


	5. Chapter 5

Day six, and Desmond was… not doing well. He wasn’t doing badly, he felt, but it definitely wasn’t going well. He had a headache that came from using the Animus constantly, a sharp stinging pain that started at the base of his neck.

He had been confused as to its location until he realized that was where his neck rested on the Animus. The machine did read his brain waves and kept his body still while he used it.

Day six, and he figured he’d just ‘wake up’ when they told him to, and spent his time visiting literally anyone else.

“How are you doing, Elise?” Desmond asked, watching her as she worked on something at her desk.

She wore her sword and her pistol, even in the supposed safety of her home. That was troubling, though understandable with recent events.

“Are you really asking  _ me _ that?” Elise asked, eyebrow raised, “We’ve been all getting echoes of your headache, you know.”

“It’s why I’m asking,” Desmond said dryly, smiling faintly. “Focus on something else and all that. Besides, I realized that because I’m dealing with my entire… situation, I haven’t really been paying attention. And you seemed stressed.”

Elise smiled softly at him. “Thank you for worrying. I’ve mostly just been stressed, dealing with the whole attempted coup and all. And Arno has been…” Elise trailed off, and rubbed at her eyes. She accidentally smeared some ink along her cheek. Yeah, the situation with Arno was rather… troublesome. Well, they’d have to deal with it around everything else that was happening. He was family. “Anyways, just focus on yourself.”

“I’d really rather not until they come and grab me,” Desmond admitted, and rubbed his arms.

“Oh,” Elise said, her brow furrowed. She glanced at her papers and then back up at Desmond. And, near silently, the others all arrived, their own work in hand.“Well, stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said. He smiled at his other selves. He savored the warm feelings they were sending him. “Sorry. I know you all had something else you were supposed to be doing.”

“Oh, shut up Desmond,” Elise said gently, and rolled her eyes. “You are  _ ours, _ and you’d do the same for us.”

* * *

_ For all that Altair had a coup planned, he still followed the orders that Al Mualim handed him. Most of it was to keep attention off of him, for it would do no one good if the Eagle of Masyaf was seen disobeying orders. Part was to investigate for what reasons  _ these _ nine men were chosen to be killed. _

_ Like always, it was a power play. Each man, disgusting and worth killing on their own regardless of affiliation, each told Altair more of what he had already suspected. Al Mualim had their treasure, the Apple of Eden, and wished for no one else who knew of it to live. _

_ Altair completed the assignments, yes. But he did them quietly, in the shadows, so that no one knew who killed them. For the past century, since Masyaf was founded, the Order of Assassins worked liberally and freely. They were meant to be a beacon of hope, so that the people could see them working, and knew that they were defended. _

_ But that purpose had been lost since then; they were no more than mercenaries, now. It was not a bad life, for they still strived to teach others, and to lead them to self-realization. But it was not the way that they should remain. _

_ Altair, son of Umar and Maud, was the Eagle of Masyaf. History would say that he was the Mentor that led to the rebirth of the Assassin Order, giving it the shape that it would follow for the next millennium. Few would know that he worked with those ever forgotten by history to shape the future as they all saw fit. _

_ Even less would know he walked with seven others at his side. _

* * *

Desmond blinked tiredly at Lucy, who handed him his food. It was another long day. Vidic had him in the Animus until dinner time today, and he certainly  _ felt _ it. It bled to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was leaning tiredly against his shoulder, and chewing absentmindedly on some jerky.

“You need to eat, Desmond,” Lucy said worriedly, looking him once over.

“Okay,” Desmond agreed, because he really did need to eat. He ate his sandwich mechanically.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked.

Desmond swallowed and thought how to answer. May as well go for honesty, there really wasn’t much reason not to. “I’m exhausted, actually. It’s hard to keep track of time, and I’ve been getting headaches alongside forgetting which language I’m speaking. And Altair’s memories are…  _ much _ clearer than some of my own.”

Part of it had to be the Bleeding Effect- the headaches were proof enough. But he couldn’t discount the fact that he had been cramming near days and weeks worth of memories in his head at once, vivid in the way only the Animus could provide.

And they were all of  _ important _ moments, as Altair lived and learned and decided that the coup was the only way to go. If Desmond had a way to use his second sight when viewing the memories as a  _ memory _ rather than living through it, he was certain that they’d be golden.

Lucy looked at him, brow furrowed.

“Was I speaking English?” Desmond asked tiredly. He did not like not being able to tell which language he was speaking at any given time. It had been literally more than a decade since any of them had trouble with it.

“You were,” Lucy confirmed. “Though you did have an odd accent, of sorts. I was just worried about what you were going through.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said. Odd accent? He looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who shrugged, but nodded at his unspoken question. Huh. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t speak a language from either Europe or Asia as a first language. To those unfamiliar with it, Desmond supposed it would cause an odd accent. “The language thing, I mean, not… everything else.”

“I understood what you meant,” Lucy said, smiling faintly. “I’ll find you some painkillers for the headache.”

“Abstergo has a pharmaceutical company attached, I sure hope you can find me some good pain meds,” Desmond said dryly. Lucy laughed lightly at the tone. Yay. Brownie points.

“Altair is heading to Masyaf now,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said quietly, looking to Desmond. “We’re getting closer. I don’t know what will happen to you, here, since it’s likely to coincide with when you’re in the Animus.”

Desmond closed his eyes, and pressed closer to Ratonhnhaké:ton. Yeah, he didn’t know either.

* * *

_ Robert de Sable was no idiot; he saw what was happening to his allies, and knew that he was on the list to be killed next. Altair may have made certain that the general populace didn’t know that Masyaf or Assassins were behind the deaths, but Sable knew of them already. _

_ Still, having a body double sent to the funeral was something else. And cowardly, if a smart move overall. But the double, whose name he didn’t know, was an impressive swordsman. But though they were an enemy, they were not the blinding red of Sable. _

_ Altair spared their life. It was to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, out of respect of their skill, and also because they were not his target. _

_ “Altair, he plans to ride to Richard and point him to Masyaf!” Malik hissed in worry, when Altair returned to the Bureau that evening. He didn’t care to be quiet. The Assassins here were trusted, and knew of their plans. _

_ Altair breathed harshly through is teeth. They were to move in a couple of weeks time. None of them could afford another attack on Masyaf so close to their planned coup. Most of their resources had to be put towards recovery afterwards. _

_ “We must ride to King Richard,” Evie said quickly, brow furrowed. “History paints him as reasonable. He will hear you out.” _

_ “I will go to meet the King, then,” Altair said to Malik. He shook his head when Malik looked ready to argue. “No. You must continue to prepare here, and I will ride out. There is enough time for me to do both.” _

_ Malik sneered, but Altair knew better than to take it to heart. The worry was obvious. “You are a fool, Altair. But we don’t have the capability to worry about an attack. Go, with my blessing. I will finalize everything here.” _

_ “Safety and peace, Malik,” Altair said. _

_ “Safety and peace,” Malik repeated. _

* * *

Desmond did his quick walk around the main room. He felt listless. He had been kidnapped for a week total, if he counted the travel time from New York to Rome. Desmond trusted his captains and the people he had left behind, but he still worried. The communication circuit between them was strong; no one should be drastically worried about him just disappearing.

That didn’t mean he still didn’t worry. Especially for  _ Nonna, _ who was getting to be so  _ old, _ no matter that she had a strong heart and an even stronger personality. All of her children were elsewhere, leaving her alone in that apartment… Desmond shook his head. He wasn’t compartmentalizing as well as he should.

Altair arrived in Masyaf tomorrow. The Animus compressed time; what took minutes of travel was actually days, if not weeks, of travel in reality. It was strange to realize that he had practically relived the last few months in only a few days. Harsh on his brain and his sense of time, but also just really completely strange.

“You need to rest,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “Go to bed, Desmond.”

“You too,” Desmond said, looking him over. Ratonhnhaké:ton was dealing with a revolution, after all. “But yeah, time for bed.”

* * *

“Whoo, day seven, let’s have it for day seven of my stint as a kidnapped bartender in Abstergo Industries,” Desmond said cheerfully the next morning. He went to grab his breakfast, which was an actual omelet, alongside a muffin and juice. Nice!

“Good morning, Desmond,” Lucy said flatly, though her eyes were amused. “What a wonderful introduction today.”

Desmond shrugged, and when he got closer to his breakfast, he smelled…  _ coffee. _ “Oh my god, Lucy, good morning, I love you, I will have your babies for you,” Desmond said, grabbing the cup.

He refrained from actually chugging it, but it was a close thing. He was actually rather proud about it. At least he still had some measure of self control still.

Lucy actually laughed at him. Yay! He ignored Vidic in the corner, who sneered at him. Yeah, fuck you too you asshole. Desmond didn’t care about you.

He bravely refrained from flipping him off. Which was even more impressive than not chugging hot coffee. Yeah, Desmond’s self control today was  _ great, _ thank you for asking.

“Desmond, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re  _ drunk,” _ Lucy said.

Desmond held the cup of coffee like it was the most precious treasure imaginable. How had he not realized he missed coffee this much?

Desmond looked seriously at her. “Lucy, I have a headache, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, I’m confusing my languages, and I swear I had a nightmare in which the walls were painted with blood. I drank water from the tap last night, so either your water is drugged, which is likely considering you kidnapped me, or somehow you managed to change your water line with a magically tasteless moonshine. But what do I know?”

Desmond knew a lot, actually. He was a bartender and he was rather proud of his position. Having dexterity training helped a lot when he started out, because it drastically cut off the training time. But Desmond had no idea that learning flair bartending would actually help the other way around either. He could proudly say that he had the best accuracy with throwing knives of the eight of them, and it all had to do with bartending.

“You’re exhausted-drunk, not actually drunk,” Evie said amusedly. She would be taking the first shift with him that morning. Depending on how long it was, she would either stay with him the entire day, or switch with Elise. “Though I do find that you act the same regardless. At least you’re cheerful today, instead of despondent.”

Lucy paled when he mentioned the blood on the walls. Whoops. Tired Desmond didn’t care though. Evie rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Ah. That’s concerning,” Lucy managed.

“It was some real horror movie stuff,” Desmond agreed. Because it wasn’t just the blood on the walls Sixteen had left. It was like the walls were bleeding too. Really kind of creepy.

He mournfully put the coffee down to grab his omelet. Ooooh, it had sausage and ham as well as bell peppers. Nice.

Desmond eyed Lucy thoughtfully. Hm. It’d take a lot of work in medical advancements, but Abstergo industries did have some pretty cool medical projects going on. And that was even ignoring that they were run by rich old people with delusions of godhood. Desmond wouldn’t mind having Lucy’s babies. They’d be real pretty. And smart.

“No, Desmond,” Evie said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. The edge of her voice was filled with worry, but Evie didn’t actually bring it up. Desmond was  _ only _ tired, after all.

“We’re getting close to what you’re looking for, aren’t we?” Desmond asked Lucy. “It sort of feels like we’re getting close.”

Completely ignoring the fact that Altair was going to reach Masyaf later that day, of course. Their lives were like a movie anyways, might as well follow all the genre tropes. A coup was like the perfect big finale in Desmond’s life right now.

Lucy hummed and looked over the monitor. “Yes, we are getting closer to the memory that we need. I’d say, following the rate you’ve been going, that you’ll reach it by either the end of the day or early tomorrow.”

“End of the day, for certain,” Desmond said assuredly. If not, he’d be more concerned with how slowly Altair traveled, honestly.

“Are you going to push yourself?” Lucy asked worriedly. She glanced to where Vidic was, and said more quietly, “You don’t have to do that, Desmond. You have to take care of yourself.”

“As much as I can, anyways,” Desmond said, shrugging.

Not much he could really do when he was continually forced into the Animus. He grabbed his juice and chugged it. The coffee… well, he’d savor that for as long as possible.

Lucy, despite her worry, smiled in understanding as he gripped his coffee closer. Ah, yes, she  _ would _ understand the need for caffeine, wouldn’t she? Desmond hoped they knew he’d be perfectly willing to attack them if they tried to stop him from drinking it before he finished.

* * *

_ Altair and Malik were meant to be in Masyaf, when they started. Their people were meant to be there, to smooth things over. They had meant to gather all of the information that they had gathered over the past couple of months, detailing why Al Mualim was no longer fit to be the Mentor of the Levantine Brotherhood. _

_ Despite the violence they expected, they did their best to make it as bloodless as possible. These were their  _ people.

_ Killing Robert de Sable was easy, if tiring. Eight against one wasn’t  _ really _ only against one, when Altair had seven other selves fighting alongside him. It was a fight that left Altair injured, yes, but very handily victorious. It was a death that settled Altair, as he avenged the injuries laid upon Malik and Kadar. And that he protected Masyaf from this particular attack. _

_ Talking with King Richard was… enlightening, to put it mildly. He was a sensible king, all told. _

_ Altair actually enjoyed debating philosophy with him for the single night that Altair remained in camp. That he had been treated as an honored guest despite it all said something, Altair felt. What, he didn’t quite know, but he knew better than to question such good fortune. _

_ Since Sable was the last of the nine Al Mualim had sent Altair to kill, his return to Masyaf should have been simple. He would report of his completed assignment, and then head to the healing halls to tend to his wounds. There he would wait until Malik and the other Assassins that Altair had gathered from the Bureaus made it to Masyaf. _

_ “Something is  _ wrong, _ ” Ezio hissed, watching the fortress with golden eyes. “Can you feel it?” _

_ Altair stared up the mountains. “I do,” he said simply. _

_ The fortress was bathed in smoke, golden-important and red-enemy both. But the way that the red swirled… it felt artificial, almost. Like coercion and torture. _

_ ‘How dare he.’ the eagle within Altair screeched in outrage. It echoed through all of them. It was a call to arms. ‘ _ How dare he. _ ’ _

_ “The Apple,” Aveline breathed, staring in horror. “Al Mualim has used the Apple on everyone in Masyaf.” _

_ Malik was still several hours away. Altair could feel him, distantly, and was relieved to feel that he was closing the distance. Kadar- _

_ “Kadar is in there,” Altair said. Kadar, and Rauf, the novices and journeymen, and Isra, the Sisters, and all the women of the gardens. They all let out several low curses. _

_ “Did he suspect that we were planning something?” Elise asked. _

_ “No, he couldn’t have,” Ezio said, and shook his head. _

_ “It had to be the Apple,” Evie said grimly, “We already know that it has an extreme negative influence on people.” _

_ “Al Mualim is a Templar,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Regardless of what that means to us, we know what it means to  _ him.”

_ “Ambition for power, compounded with the Apple’s influence…” Elise trailed off. _

_ Altair closed his eyes, and spread his awareness as far as he could over Masyaf. It was easier, here, where he had been born and raised. He knew the shapes of the stones, and the wind. He knew the people, and the animals. _

_ There, blue, hiding and small, but still there. _

_ “There are people in there that have not been ensnared,” Altair said, opening his eyes. Now that he was aware, he could see past the red smoke and to the heart of the blue. It was small, but it was  _ there _. _

_ “We aren’t just throwing a coup anymore,” Desmond said, stepping forward to grab Altair’s hand. “We are fighting for our free will.” _

_ “Yes,” Altair said. _

_ He eyed the outside of the walls. Al Mualim did not have the awareness that Altair did, but he had decades of experience over him. And with the Apple, he would know the moment that Altair entered Masyaf, if he wasn’t already aware that he was there. _

_ “Al Mualim would have planned for you,” Aveline said, stepping up to him to grab his other hand. The others all pressed closer, gathering their collective strength. “But he did not plan for  _ us.”

_ “No,” Altair said grimly, “He did not.” _

-

_ They walked up to Masyaf, all eight of them in unison. Wings non-existent wrapped around them, connecting their eight bodies, their souls resonating with each other. Their hearts and minds focused on this singular task. _

_ This was their territory. Masyaf was theirs. The Eagle of Masyaf was the only Eagle here, but they were also only one Eagle of many. And Masyaf was the heart of their territory. It was time to clear it of their enemies, and rid the land of trespassers. Those that were previously allowed were no longer welcome, their presence poisoning the land instead of bolstering it. _

_ As they walked to the gates, they paused. Together, they would enter and face what was to come, as was right. But they turned to the one, two, bodies that were needed elsewhere. They did not like this, sending two of themselves out, but needs must. To go willingly would save them the trouble that would arise if they were taken forcefully. _

_ “We will be here, still,” they said, “though we do not know how it will work. We  _ will _ be here.” _

_ “Yes,” they agreed. _

_ With that, they, the two that would be working on their own, distant but not separate, turned on their heels. It took only a thought to shift to where their body was being held. _

* * *

“Desmond, your break is over,” Lucy said quietly. She glanced at Vidic, who watched them angrily and impatiently.

They reviewed the last few minutes, lived distantly but recorded all the same. Ah, yes. Lucy and Vidic had been telling them to get back to work. They had been with themselves, and had ignored Lucy and Vidic.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked worriedly, looking up at them.

They looked to her, confused. “Yes?” they asked.

“...do you recognize me, Desmond?” Lucy asked.

They, Desmond, raised an eyebrow. They looked to them, Evie, who also looked confused at the question. “Of course I do, Lucy,” Desmond said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Lucy relaxed minutely. “No particular reason. You just weren’t acting normally.”

Desmond blinked at her, and then looked to Evie again. Yes, that did make sense. The eight of them normally didn’t allow their walls down so thoroughly. It blended their personalities and collective perception, and made them all act oddly to those that knew them. It was because they were all incredibly stubborn  _ individuals  _ that they didn’t keep their walls down more often.

“I’m myself, I promise,” Desmond said.

Even if it would take only the barest of thoughts for Desmond and Evie to return to the others. Though, Lucy was perhaps worried about the Bleeding Effect? That made sense. If one weren’t aware of the eight of them, it would be very easy to confuse the two. Especially since all of their thoughts were currently directed at Masyaf.

“I’m glad,” Lucy said softly. She had become more and more blue over the last couple of days, Altair noted. She truly did care about Desmond, even if she was using him.

Ah, there it was. Desmond was more settled into himself, though their collective bond was still incredibly wide open. It would be so  _ easy _ to return to the others, but Desmond had a task to do. Even if it was one he would rather not do at all.

“Hurry up, Mister Miles,” Vidic said, glaring impatiently at him. “We don’t have all day now.”

“If you’re ready, Desmond,” Lucy said, and went back to her spot at the Animus monitor.

Desmond and Evie shared a glance. They were as ready as they would ever be. Desmond sighed and followed after Lucy.

* * *

_ Altair _ walked through the gates of the village, filled with trepidation.

It was too quiet. There weren’t any of the usual sounds. No chickens, no dogs barking, no sounds of work as people moved around. He couldn’t hear the shriek of children, or the footsteps of the people as they walked. Nothing. It was just… silent.

He walked forward, senses strained as he tried to figure out what was going on. It took several minutes of cautious walking, but he saw a villager as he reached the main square. But other than that singular person, everywhere else was simply… empty.

He walked up to the villager. “What happened here?” he asked softly. It was hard to break the unnatural silence. “Where is everyone?”

“Gone to see the Master,” the villager said simply. He sounded… normal? As if today was just another day.

“Was it the Templars?”  _ Altair _ asked. Had there been an attack? That would explain why there was no one there. Though, if they did,  _ Altair _ didn’t see any signs of a battle. “Did they attack again?”

“They walk the path,” the villager said.

“What path?”  _ Altair _ asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The path towards the light,” the villager said, awe in his voice.

“What?”

“There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth.” the villager said, as if reciting scripture.

“You’ve lost your mind,”  _ Altair _ said, and shook his head.

The villager looked at him. “You too will walk the path. Or you will perish. So the Master commands.”

“It was Al Mualim, wasn’t it?”  _ Altair _ demanded. He had expected the betrayal, and yet it still hurt. “What has he done to you?”

“Praise be to the Master, for he has led us to the light!” the villager exclaimed.

...Useless.  _ Altair _ moved past the man, intent on making it to the fortress. Even as he got closer, the village remained empty. Where was everyone?

“The will of the Master must be obeyed,” the villager said.

_ Altair _ glanced back at him, and saw that the singular villager had been joined by others. As they gathered, so did the nonsense they said.

“Only speak, Master, and show us the path.”

“Al Mualim! Guide us! Command us!”

“What is wrong with you?”  _ Altair _ demanded, speaking despite himself. “Your minds are your own, why do you beg for guidance when you can make your own decisions? Why have you now decided to ask Al Mualim for said guidance, when Masyaf had stood for years before without it?”

“We cannot stray from the path,” a villager said, voice distant.

_ Altair _ looked around. Their faces were all the same. Blank, and distant, and they moved listlessly as if… very carefully, he refrained from throwing up. An actual attack would be preferable to this. It was as if the souls of the villagers had been stolen.

This was… No.  _ Altair _ refused to let this stand. He ran past the villagers and up the path that led to the fortress. Al Mualim would pay for what he had done.

_ Altair _ would not allow any less.

0o0o0


	6. Chapter 6

Lucy watched as Desmond settled into the Animus. Watching the process as his body settled into its imitation REM cycle and his mind was connected to the Animus program was… something. It always was something. It was a near instantaneous process from when the mind was booted into the program to the body settling. It was less like falling asleep and more like passing out.

“Alright, Desmond, we’re loading up the most recent memory now,” Lucy said, and pulled up the relevant file.

_ “Okay. Here we go, then.” _ Desmond said, through the monitor.

Lucy watched apprehensively as the memory loaded. There was always those few moments between loading and actually entering the memory that were touch and go. It was an issue that was unique to Desmond; Clay and the other subjects were just dropped right into the memory, no problem.

Desmond on the other hand was nearly disconnected from the memories, as if he was rejecting what was shown to him. Lucy was just glad that Desmond had found a work around, however he managed that.

The Animus loaded the memory, and her screen entered its monitoring stage. A corner of a screen was dedicated to Desmond, as Altair, as he moved around the memory. The rest was cataloguing information and body vitals. Lucy had gotten ridiculously good at typing up timestamps as the memory happened live.

Warren  _ hmmph _ -ed at his desk, where he had his own monitor. Lucy was nominally in charge of gathering information from Desmond. Warren took notes about the Assassins that they otherwise didn’t have. This may have been a thousand years ago, but Assassins were such traditionalists that they still held ideas from the Crusades. And to defeat their enemies, they had to know them.

Not that Lucy wasn’t completely in awe that she was watching  _ Altair Ibn-La’Ahad, _ of course. Despite everything that happened since she joined Abstergo and the Templars, Lucy  _ had  _ been born into the Order. She knew her important historical figures. This was Altair, who would become one of the most famous Assassins in history.

And Desmond was descended from him. From quite a few different important Assassins, actually. His bloodline was impressive, and finding him had been a stroke of immense luck.

Or, bad luck on Desmond’s part. He had managed to stay under the radar for a decade, which spoke of his skill, and level of training. Lucy understood, though. It was hard to shake the training that had been given to them since they were born. And as the only child of the current Mentor of the Assassins, it made sense that the training Desmond received was a bit more  _ intense _ than what Lucy did.

Desmond… he was interesting.

He seemed to roll with the punches, but Lucy had watched the security footage they had of him. Desmond had studied the room he was in, as well as the street outside, obviously casing the building from what limited access he had. If Lucy wasn’t going to break him out, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did it himself.

The fact that Desmond was exhausted and Bleeding, and yet had the determination and patience to wait for an escape… Lucy respected competency enough that she couldn’t help but  _ want _ to see what Desmond would do. She knew what Abstergo security was like, but even then she wasn’t certain that Desmond  _ wouldn’t _ fail.

It was dangerous, this quiet affection she had for him. It hadn’t even been a week, but Desmond had proven to be interesting. Working to gain his trust wasn’t a hardship; Lucy hadn’t had to feign liking him.

For all that he claimed to not be an Assassin, Lucy had  _ seen _ his reaction when he first woke up from the Animus, even as Warren dismissed his anger as childish. Desmond was furious, yes, but the way he tracked their movement, and the way that he studied them both… those weren’t the reactions of someone that had spent the last decade trying to forget their childhood. Sure, some things were hard to shake, but it also wasn’t hard to lose the habit of daily training either.

Then there was the fact that he always seemed to be lost in thought. Even when he was talking and interacting with Lucy, it was as if there was always something else he was avoiding. Like he was seeing and hearing something else, and only ignored it to speak with her. Lucy would like to pin the blame entirely on the Bleeding Effect, but that wasn’t entirely possible.

Though if Desmond already experienced hallucinations, then it was likely he didn’t bother mentioning that he had  _ more. _ He already admitted to having headaches and confusing his languages. Lucy had made sure that they allowed him more breaks than they did Clay, but it had been a week already. And Desmond had the clearest memories that they’d ever seen… she wouldn’t be surprised if he had hallucinations about Altair.

Lucy hummed in thought and turned her attention back to the monitor. Altair had made it to Masyaf after killing Robert de Sable, and would soon be confronting Al Mualim. Then the Apple would activate and show them the map that they needed.

Altair was a ruthless fighter and killer, no matter that he had relearned kindness and mercy the past few months. It was amazing to the see the transition from that incredibly arrogant man from Solomon’s Temple, to this man who moved with purpose, but also caution and humility.

Though he treated civilians and ‘innocents’ with more respect than either Lucy or Warren had expected in the beginning, he still treated his fellow Assassins as if they were beneath him, no matter how politely he spoke. If Lucy hadn’t watched it herself, she wouldn’t believe how drastically Altair had changed.

Lucy kept taking her notes, and kept an eye on what Desmond was doing in the Animus. She wasn’t much for history, but even she had to admit that watching what life was like near one thousand years ago was fascinating. Warren didn’t much care, so focused on what he needed to do here in the present, but Lucy was drawn in.

A slight beeping sound took her attention from her work. Lucy frowned and searched for it; that was the Animus alert. It meant something needed her immediate attention, but wasn’t quite an emergency. Strange, Desmond had been doing so well lately…

Lucy blinked at the warning. What did it mean, Desmond was desynchronized? She looked- and yes, the monitor still clearly showed Altair moving through Masyaf. The villagers, their minds controlled by the Apple, were creepy, yes, but it was business as usual. There was no way that they would be able to see the memory if Desmond  _ wasn’t _ synchronized…

She pressed the call button. “Desmond, can you hear me?” she tried, even as she felt it would be useless. Desmond ignored anyone and everything but the memory. Lucy hadn’t minded, since it meant he was focused on staying synched. But it wouldn’t hurt to just check in…

Nothing. The warning kept beeping. Lucy stared at it, confused, before sighing and dismissing it entirely. It was likely just a bug. She made a note to tell the tech team and returned to notating the memory.

* * *

_ Masyaf was empty. _

_ They strained their senses, using their second sight and all of their training to keep an eye on their surroundings. This was their territory, but their enemy had spent years gathering his power over this place. First, as the Mentor, and secondly, as he succumbed to the temptation the Apple provided. _

_ But Masyaf was empty. They could not feel the familiar presences of the villagers, nor hear any of the usual sounds. It wasn’t just the lack of people that bothered them, now. It was the fact that they couldn’t hear any animals. No chickens, no dogs, not even horses. It was as if Masyaf had been abandoned. _

_ And yet they were intimately aware of each and every single person that still stood. They were either in the fortress itself, or clustered near the base of the mountain where the village met the path upwards. _

_ When they reached the main square, which would lead to the path that led up to the fortress, they saw a singular villager. He stood there, as if nothing was wrong, and as if he was just enjoying the brisk weather. _

_ This close, they could see the neutral-white that they were so used to smothered by the red that centered around his head. That must be where the Apple controlled him. _

_ “Should we speak with him?” they asked. _

_ “Yes,” they said, thoughtful, “If only to see what Al Mualim has bid him to think, and to say.” _

_ “Knowing what our enemy thinks will be useful,” they agreed. _

_ They walked forward, cautiously. This was not their enemy, no matter that their enemy had him. They would do their best to limit the amount of violence. _

_ “What happened here?” they asked, “Where is everyone?” _

_ “They have all gone to see the Master,” the villager said simply. He sounded… normal. The smoke around his head billowed as he spoke, as if it exerted control. _

_ “Why?” they asked. “There hasn’t been an attack, has there?” _

_ “They walk the path,” the villager said. _

_ “What path?” they asked, “What are you talking about?” _

_ “The path towards the light,” the villager said, awe in his voice, as if he had seen something truly wondrous. It was unnerving, how simply he acted. _

_ They frowned. The light? “What?” _

_ “There is only what the Master shows us. This is the truth,” the villager said. It was as if he recited scripture. _

_ They swallowed. They knew this was happening, but to have it so simply laid out in front of them… “You have lost your mind,” they said softly. _

_ The villager looked to them. They stiffened when they saw that red smoke swirl violently, as more control was placed upon him. “You too will walk the path. Or you will perish. So the Master commands.” _

_ “So,” they, those that were unseen by everyone else, said, “This means that Al Mualim has continuous control over the villagers, if he can send messages.” _

_ “It is likely through them that he can see us,” they said grimly, “His literal eyes and ears, spread over the fortress.” _

_ “I wonder, does he think that we won’t be able to  _ hide  _ now?” they asked, darkly amused. They spared the brief thought to be amused and insulted that Al Mualim even dared to think so. _

_ “I am sorry,” they said to the villager, hoping,  _ wishing, _ to reach the soul that was trapped within the red smoke, “that Al Mualim has done this to you. Have faith, still. I will free you.” _

_ They felt several more villagers arriving, watching. They were not trained to fight, these villagers, and they would easily defeat them. _

_ But Al Mualim held their reigns, and though their bodies were not trained, much of an Assassin’s skill was mental. It might ruin their bodies, as they were not meant for such movement, but they would be more dangerous regardless. _

_“It is time to hide, if Al Mualim is so determined to keep us in his sights,” they said brightly, amusedly, finding the humor despite the situation. “It’s simply too bad that we have absolutely_ no way _of knowing if we are seen, isn’t it?”_

_ They shifted their awareness, not from the overwhelming sense of the fortress and its people, but to the awareness others held instead. Smoke remained, but dissipated so that the circles that made up the areas of awareness took precedence. _

_ Without warning, they sprinted off, going left and up. Running,  _ flying, _ was easy, and fun. Even though they were going to hide, this was something that always made them feel better. Rare was it that an Assassin couldn’t literally run their troubles and worries away. _

_ Even though only one of them was required to move, they all went. Even if one wasn’t meant to move like this, they followed along, willingly, moving in tandem with the group. Even though two were away, doing a different task, they reached- _

-And then, together. All eight of them ran through Masyaf. Their footsteps were silent, and their breathing aligned. The wings that didn’t exist spread from their backs, and to each other, and through each other, and they all ran in unison.

It didn’t take them long to find a hiding spot. They turned to the two that had returned to them, and gripped each others’ hands, and arms. Touch was not required when their souls were bared so clearly to each other, but it didn’t need to be required to be wanted.

“You are here,” they said, smiling brightly.

“Yes,” they returned. “We, six, were running, and we, two, wished to be here.”

“We, two, do not know how it will be viewed where we are kept, but until we are forced back, we will remain here,” they said.

“Good,” they said firmly. “We will all be needed for the upcoming fight. Al Mualim will not expect us, but we must not underestimate what the Apple can do.”

“No, we musn’t,” they said grimly, “We have seen what the Shroud can do, and that was only to heal its wearer’s body from injury. The Apple is meant for so much more, and as such, is more dangerous.”

“We will be cautious,” they said, “But that doesn’t mean that we our not dangerous ourselves.”

“We must move,” they said, blinking golden eyes at what they saw past the walls. “Al Mualim is not a fool, nor is he weak. We have the upper hand, but that will not remain if we are too prideful.”

They nodded. “Then let us go. We will be swift.”

They ran towards the ravine, where the river below ran. There were platforms down there, leading to caverns that existed beneath the fortress. Although the caves had been expanded as they were found, the formation itself was natural. Only the Assassins knew of the caverns themselves, as the inner entrance was found within the heart of the fortress. Even fewer knew of the platforms that existed on the outside.

It wasn’t an easy climb down, but it wasn’t hard, either. The rocks were slick with the spray from the river, but their leather gloves and boots gave them enough traction to move downwards. Once they were close enough, it was easy to leap for the nearest platform.

They blinked as they stood straight, staring into the cavern. It was but a thought to switch their second sight from the circles of awareness to their awareness of everyone in Masyaf. They couldn’t help but grin. It seemed that they had found their hidden allies.

Still, that was no reason to be hasty. The walked forward quietly and cautiously, glad that they had packed an extra first aid kit. It was likely that there were injured ahead.

“Altair!” a voice called, distorted by the echoes and the tone they spoke with.

They turned to the voice, and saw- “Rauf! You are well,” they said. They walked forward, and they clasped each other’s forearms.

“For a given value of well,” Rauf said dryly. His robes were splattered with blood, and he had a still bleeding cut along his temple. Nothing to worry about, it seemed. It was already starting to clot. “I’m sorry to say that your triumphant return home has been waylaid by some rather troubling events.”

“Triumphant it still is,” they, Altair, said. “Robert de Sable is dead, and I have spoken with King Richard. He has come to know of us, yes, but knows we are not the enemy, and has agreed to leave us alone.”

“That is wonderful news,” Rauf said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Though I did not think that King Richard was a potential enemy.”

“Sable was no idiot, unfortunately,” Altair said, “But he has been dealt with, and I have another to handle here.”

Rauf eyed him, looking them over. Altair held still for his inspection; Rauf did not have any second sight, but he was perceptive all the same. He knew them, as  _ them, _ as Rauf was the first that they had introduced themselves to. “You are not Altair, are you?”

Altair shook their head. “Yes, and no. We, eight, are currently working as one. We, Altair, am leading.” They smiled wryly and said, “When things are not so dire, we will explain how we have come to refer to ourselves when we are together. You may refer to us as Altair, still.”

Rauf nodded in understanding. He motioned to the first aid kit that they carried. “It is good that you bring that, for we have injured. Nothing so disastrous that there is risk of death, but there are still some troublesome cases.”

They blinked, and they, Desmond, stepped forward since they were the one with the most advanced healing skills. “We will help, then. While we do, we can plan how to take care of Al Mualim.”

“Good,” Rauf said, and led them through the caverns. “We are hidden here for now. Al Mualim has taken control of the villagers easily, but the Assassins held on long enough that we were able to hide without being found.”

“That is good,” Desmond said, “We have seen the smoke that smothers the villagers. It is disgusting what has been done.”

“Yes,” Rauf agreed, grimacing. “It as if their very souls have been taken. I imagine that if you see it with your second sight, it is as gruesome as I imagine.”

“Not gruesome in visuals, but the implications remain,” Desmond said, shaking their head. Though if they focused too hard, they were sure that their second sight would interpret it as them  _ wanting _ more accurate representation. Which, no, they were good thanks.

“Let’s go,” Rauf said, “Lady Hawa is one of the two medics we have, and both are taking care of our injured. Kadar is there.”

“How is he?” Desmond asked. They immediately reached out with their awareness, and sighed in relief when they felt the familiar cool  _ blue _ of Kadar. Now that they registered his presence again, they would not lose his location.

“Scraped up, but otherwise fine,” Rauf assured, “The flight here aggravated his scars, but all he can do for it is rest.”

“That’s good,” and they closed their eyes in relief. Still, they moved forward, wanting to see Kadar with their own eyes.

“Altair!” Kadar said when they came to the small area that had been designated as the healing hall. They eyed him, noting everything. There was that sunflower yellow pain centered around his abdomen, but it was faint and already dissipating. Nothing was sickly-yellow.

“Stay down,” Desmond ordered. “You don’t need to be moving, if your scars are hurting.” They handed off the first aid kit to Hawa, who took it gratefully.

Kadar settled back into the blanket he had been using. Desmond stepped back to let Altair forward, and they gripped Kadar’s arm.

“I am glad you are here,” Kadar said. “Where’s Malik?”

“He is behind us,” Altair said quietly, “We had to make a detour ahead of time. But he and the others should be here soon.”

Kadar blinked at him, registering their presence as he always did. “Oh. You’re here?”

“Yes,” Altair said. “Do not worry. We will help with the injured here, and make plans. But Al Mualim will be taken care of.”

“I knew that,” Kadar said, and rolled his eyes. They smiled fondly at him.

“If you’re going to help,  _ help,” _ Hawa said in a harsh whisper. Altair turned to her, and then Desmond stood up. If Hawa had bothered to speak at all, then they had best do as she wished.

“Where do you need us?” Desmond asked, walking to her.

* * *

“I do not like this,” Rauf said grimly. Only he and a couple of other Assassins were able to fight, and as such, help. “We are skilled, yes, but we are not much in the face of the rest of the Order.”

“That is why you will be distractions only,” Altair said. “Spend your energy wisely, and keep their attention on you.”

“While you go and confront the Master?” another Assassin asked, a high-ranking journeyman, and he fidgeted lightly in place. “Can you?”

Altair smiled at him. “Yes. I have my own talents that I have not used before.”

The other Assassin, another Master, eyed Altair and their collective weapons cooly, but nodded. “Something that Al Mualim will not expect, on top of your already known skill.”

“Yes,” Altair agreed, and once again checked all of their weapons.

They had taken Kadar’s sword, to dual wield. Rauf was well known as the  _ only _ one of the Masters that could actually fight with two swords. Elise, then, would be a surprise. They added another section of throwing knives, these ones settled at their hip in place of a couple of pouches they normally carried.

On their other hip was a coiled whip, something no one else here could use. Aveline would  _ definitely _ be a shock. Combined with the strength and skill that they would all be using, together, made Altair much more powerful than others had seen.

Rauf turned to the two Brothers. “We will act as if we are sneaking out of the fortress at first, before making ourselves known.” The other two Assassins nodded in understanding.

Altair closed their eyes, and  _ reached _ with their senses. They looked for that familiar  _ blue _ of their closest friend. Malik was closing in more quickly as he got closer to Masyaf. He likely could tell that something was wrong, and hurried the group he traveled with along.

“Malik and the Assassins he is traveling with are close by,” Altair said, “They will be here soon. Hold on till they arrive.” It might be prudent to wait for them, but that would also leave them open to attack. Altair refused to give Al Mualim the chance to enthrall them.

“That is good,” Rauf said, “Now, we will head out first. Wait five minutes before heading out.”

“Yes,” Altair agreed. They  _ focused _ on the three Assassins with their second sight, memorizing their presence and becoming, temporarily, permanently aware of them. Rauf was easy, as a close friend. The other two Assassins were familiar, Brothers they had known for years, but it took a couple of seconds to commit them to memory.

“Safety and peace, Altair,” Rauf said softly, and they gripped each other's forearms.

“Safety and peace,” Altair repeated, which echoed through them all. “Go, and may fortune favor your blade.”

Rauf and the other two Assassins nodded, and left silently through the entrance. Altair closed it quickly, and used their second sight to follow them through the fortress. Their heart was heavy with worry, but they trusted the others. They weren’t without skill, and they knew what was at stake. But still, their heart worried.

“They will be fine,” they said softly, “This is Rauf we’re talking about.”

“And the other two are good Brothers, as evidenced by their strength of will and their rank,” they added.

“We know this, but that doesn’t stop us from worrying,” Altair sighed.

“No, it doesn’t,” they agreed.

Altair closed their eyes, and counted. They felt Rauf and the other two make their way out of the fortress, swiftly and quietly. At this point, they would be seen whether or not they wished to be; none of them had the second sight, or the awareness of other people’s perception. But they would be going as far as they could before they made themselves known.

They felt it when Al Mualim’s controlled villagers saw them. It was as if the red smoke pointed at them, and the tendrils followed them. Even as the red smoke neared Rauf and the other two, it didn’t cling to them.

That meant that Al Mualim had to use the Apple in close proximity to a person to control them. That was something, at least. It meant that Rauf and Malik and the other Assassins would be safe from that attack.

Five minutes. Altair slipped out the door. They switched from using their broad awareness to the circles that alerted them of others’ perceptions. But they kept a mental eye on Rauf and the other two, and more distantly, Malik. Kadar was behind them, safe with the others.

It wasn’t hard to find Al Mualim. Even focused on keeping themselves hidden, their enemy was a blindingly bright red to their senses. It was like looking into the sun. Or perhaps into a raging fire, red and flickering. It was nothing like the usual cool and calm blue that they had seen for years and years. The change was drastic, and alarming, and they spared a second to mourn the man that had turned into  _ this. _

“We must be careful,” they said mournfully, “for if this is what the Apple has done, then it is more dangerous than we already expected.”

Altair nodded. In the distance, they felt Rauf and the others fighting. The intensity of some of the presences said that the Assassins that had fallen under the thrall were also there.

“Malik is almost here,” they said.

In fact, it felt like Malik and the Assassins he brought with him were now climbing past the boundaries of Masyaf. Good. Rauf would need the help.

Al Mualim was standing on a balcony in the courtyard to the library. He held the Apple, which burned golden to their second sight.

Altair swallowed. They, eight, stood together and gathered their courage. They braced themselves from what was to come, and steadied each other. The eagle within their mind and heart screeched, a warning to their enemies.

It went against their instinct to make themselves known, silent and stealthy killers they were, but they stepped forward regardless.

0o0o0


	7. Chapter 7

“So you have come,” Al Mualim said.

His voice was nothing like the calm, wise, old man that they had known. Gone was the collected temperament, where even his bright temper was controlled through decades of experience. The show of emotion, even something negative, didn’t bother them.

Al Mualim was as human as they were, and emotions were important. No, it was the fact that he had lost all self-control to  _ show _ his emotions so plainly. This wasn’t even a calculated reaction, as some Assassins used to make their targets lose caution, but pure loss of emotional control.

“I’ve never been one to run,” Altair said dryly.

The Apple was there, golden and bright. It glowed like the lanterns of Desmond’s time, casting light on everything near. It hurt, almost, to look at it the way it was. It was almost hypnotizing in how the Apple created fractals around itself. Like a kaleidoscope.

Altair tore their attention away from the Apple and back to Al Mualim. It seemed the passive nature of the Apple itself was dangerous, not just when it was being used. They shored their mental defenses, preparing for when Al Mualim would attempt to use it on them. The old man frowned heavily, and stared at Altair.

So prepared to have that red smoke come for them, they weren’t prepared for golden light to  _ shine _ around their bodies, holding them firmly in place. Altair near panicked at the sensation, and struggled in place, trying to pull their body free. They felt the others doing the same, trying to pull them free; the light did not move.

“It’s not just a mental suggestion!” they, those unseen to those without the second sight, said, continuously trying to free themselves, “We’d feel if it this was a compulsion to  _ not move. _ The light is actually here, holding us in place!”

“Fucking Pieces of Eden,” they growled, and pulled some more. But the light was not going anywhere.

Altair sighed, and relaxed in the hold. It wouldn’t do to hurt themselves by struggling too much. To their second sight, the light glowed bright red instead of the golden glow of the Apple. But, and this was important, it did nothing more than hold them in place. That wasn’t good, but it was better than the alternative.

They hadn’t taken their attention from Al Mualim or the Apple. But now that Altair relaxed, they returned their full focus to him. Al Mualim continued to frown at them, frustrated by something. They could use that, if it held.

“You’ve never been one to  _ listen, _ either,” Al Mualim said snidely.

And at that- they all paused momentarily, staring up at him incredulously. Oh, they knew themselves well enough to know that they were stubborn, and prideful, and oftentimes acted without thinking. They kept secrets they didn’t mean to, because there were eight of them, and if  _ they _ knew, then it wasn’t a secret.

But to imply that they never  _ listened? _ Listening was how they remained themselves. How they remained connected. How the friendships they had developed in their individual lives were strong and long lasting. How they knew to trust people, and who needed help. How they learned secrets of others.

“I’m still alive because of it!” Altair returned.

They stared at each other. Al Mualim paced on top of the balcony, Apple in hand. And, as they watched, Altair realized something. The Apple may have taken Al Mualim’s hard-earned and long-lived self control, but everything that had happened here, everything that he had done… that was  _ Al Mualim. _ After all, he had sent them to Solomon’s Temple, where the Apple was.

“We chose to trust in him,” they said grimly, firmly, forcing all thoughts of guilt away. “He is the Mentor, and is old and wise, and has led the Order for decades. We chose to trust that he could resist the power that the Apple offered.”

Altair breathed in, and took their conviction, and held firm. They would not falter here. There was no room for doubt or hesitation.

“What will I do with you?” Al Mualim called down.

“Let me go,” Altair said.

“I think not,” Al Mualim said, “I hear bloodlust in your voice. Letting you go would be unwise of me, don’t you think?”

Oh, he had  _ no idea. _ Altair held their breath, even as they all started snarling threats, even as they continued to observe, looking for weaknesses and other potential advantages.

“Why are you doing this?” they asked instead.

“I have found proof,” Al Mualim declared.

“Proof of what?”

The Apple started to glow in his hand, more brightly than it had been previously. Al Mualim spoke with pride, and as if delivering some long held knowledge that he know imparted on the world. “That nothing is true, and everything is permitted!”

They all  _ stared _ at him, shock and disgust warring within them. Blasphemy. Assassins held fast to very few things, and their Creed was the most important one. For Al Mualim to take what led their lives, and to twist into this  _ thing- _

Altair started struggling again, the eagle within their heart screeching in defiance. How dare he. How  _ dare _ he!

Al Mualim saw them, and raised the Apple. “Come. Destroy the betrayer. Send him from this world!”

The light that held Altair fast disappeared, and they stumbled before catching themselves. They stood tall, and pulled their sword, as they all pulled their weapons free. They looked around and nearly stumbled backwards in pure shock.

The nine! The nine Templars that they had been sent to kill. They circled Altair, drawing their own swords, and bloodlust in their eyes.

“An illusion!” they hissed, pressing closer. “The Apple has the power of illusions!”

“That doesn’t change much, here, does it?” they yelled in return. “I’m pretty sure  _ we _ are proof that your mind can hurt you if convinced to do so!”

There was a moment, and then a singular they stepped forward, weapon in hand. “Yes. And if this is literally all in our mind, then there is  _ nothing _ stopping us from hurting  _ them.” _

Another pause, and Altair grinned as they felt the thought echo, and solidify, within them all. Oh, now that was definitely an idea. “Nothing is true, and everything is permitted,” they said brightly, and a bit maniacally.

Sure, why not. Desmond was currently strapped into a machine that let them live Altair’s memories out, but still found a way to be here with them. Why not have them interacting with illusions?

And so as they, Altair, readied themselves for the illusions to attack, the others rushed forward, weapons in hand. The illusions did not defend themselves in retaliation, as they expected, but instead took the blades to their guts. They all fell, and shattered into fragments like glass.

“That was easy,” they said dubiously.

“What?” Al Mualim demanded from above. “That’s not right!”

“He’s the one casting the illusions,” they said in dawning realization. “But that means he cannot  _ see us.” _ And then, as one, they all grinned. The impacts made certain that they could feel the illusions, yes, but they had an extreme advantage here.

“Why don’t you face me yourself?” Altair called, pointing their sword at Al Mualim in direct challenge and as a taunt. “Or are you  _ afraid?” _

It worked. The anger made his face flush red, and his beard bristled. “I have stood before a thousand men!” he roared, “All of them superior to you! And all of them dead! By my hand! I am not afraid!”

Al Mualim made his way down from the balcony. He walked around the garden and stopped to face Altair directly. The Apple glowed in his hand, its hypnotic pattern distracting. Yet they shoved the distraction from their mind and looked to Al Mualim.

“Prove it,” Altair said.

“What do I have to fear?” Al Mualim scoffed. “Look at the  _ power _ I command.”

And then, another Al Mualim stepped away. Then another, and another, and then continuing until there were nine of him, standing there. Each of them held an Apple in their hands, which slowly faded into nothing. And then all nine took the sword that hung from their waist.

“Another illusion,” they said, looking the nine Al Mualim over.

Altair smiled darkly at them. With their senses spread as broadly as they were, they  _ knew _ that none of these were the real Al Mualim. The Apple hid his presence, and it definitely was not in front of them.

“Hey, let’s have you, Altair, mime throwing knives at them!” they said cheerfully, though the grip on their sword was tight. Al Mualim had decades of experience on them, so even these copies would be dangerous if let close.

“Amazing,” Altair said to Al Mualim, as dryly as they were able.

And, as they suggested, mimed throwing knives at each of the copies. With each mimed throw, another of themselves took their blades and attacked a copy, delighting in the humor of it. Like the nine previous illusions, each Al Mualim fell and shattered into shards of light.

Altair frowned as they felt the world  _ shift, _ and then they found themselves bound by the light again. They startled, and tugged at their bindings.

Al Mualim paced in front of them, frowning heavily, with the Apple in hand. Illusions. The entire fight was an  _ illusion. _ Damn. This would be harder than they thought.

“Have you any final words?” Al Mualim asked, voice distant. Apathetic. He held his sword in his free hand, ready to gut Altair open.

“You lied. To me, and to others. You called Robert de Sable’s goals foul when yours were as well.” Altair said, both to stall for time, and also to know  _ why. _

This was Al Mualim, their mentor, who led the Order for decades. He was the Master of Masyaf, the Old Man on the Mountain. The villagers and the Assassins looked to him for guidance. They would all follow his orders. So why did he feel the need to use the Apple at all?

Al Mualim shrugged his shoulders, uncaring. “I’ve never been good at sharing.”

“Oh, wow. What an  _ asshole,” _ they said, staring incredulously. “And petty, and childish. I’m kind of hoping that that was the Apple.”

“You won’t succeed,” Altair said, glaring to cover up their smile. Not the time.

Al Mualim sighed, and shook his head. “And this is why so long as there is free will, there can be no peace.”

“What.” Altair said flatly, and then added, “You said peace was to be learned and understood.”

“Yes, I did,” Al Mualim said, nodding, “And I tried. I tried very hard. But men do not learn. They repeat the same mistakes over and over, and so there must be drastic actions to fix it. There can be no peace without authority, and so  _ I _ will be the authority.”

“I killed the last man who spoke as such,” Altair snarled, suddenly furious. The eagle within their mind screeched in outrage in time with them.

“Bold words,” Al Mualim snarled back. “But just  _ words.” _

“Then let me go,” Altair said, “And I will make  _ actions _ instead.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Al Mualim said.

Altair glared at him. Another question entered their mind. “Tell me. Why did you not steal my mind like the others?”

Al Mualim studied him, and then sighed heavily, as if disappointed. “Truth is, I did try, in my study. But you are not like the others, and saw through the illusion.”

“Illusion?” Altair repeated faintly as they cast their memory back. When was this?

“When we first brought the Apple to him,” they said faintly. “Remember, we had that headache when he unwrapped it.”

“We thought it was the sight of the Apple itself, since we hid it from sight, and were distracted with other things prior.” they said.

“The eagle within our hearts screeched at the Apple, and we thought that because we found the Apple offensive,” they added.

“Even then, Al Mualim tried to use the power over us,” they said softly, mournfully. “It wasn’t a long corruption, as we feared.”

“That’s all it’s ever done,” Al Mualim said, petulant. Childish. “This treasure, this Piece of Eden, this  _ Word of God.” _

“Illusions,” Altair repeated again softly.

Something... The nine Altair killed, brought back to life. The copies of Al Mualim. They knew that they were illusions, but…  _ the light holding him…? _

“Do you understand now? The Red Sea was never parted. Water never turned to wine. It wasn’t Eris that spawned the Trojan War, but  _ this.” _ Al Mualim held up the Apple, still glowing golden. “Illusions, all of them!”

“What you plan is no less an illusion,” Altair said lowly, “to force men to follow you against your will.”

It went against  _ everything. _

The core of the Assassins was choice. Free will. The ability to  _ choose _ what one wanted to do, without forcing their own will on others. Self-determination was the goal, but free will was the  _ means. _ That Al Mualim, their Mentor, the Master of Masyaf had given up on it…!

Al Mualim studied them, and their thoughts must have been visible on their face. Al Mualim sighed. “I see that logic has left you now. In its place you embrace emotion. I am disappointed in you.”

They all glared at him. “What is to be done, then?” Altair demanded.

“You will not follow me, and I cannot compel you,” Al Mualim said.

“And you refuse to give up,” Altair said.

“It seems, then, that we are at an impasse.”

“No,” Altair said, and drew their collective strength together. The Apple only produced illusions. It would take effort, but they could break free. “We are at an  _ end.” _

The light that bound Altair disappeared, and Altair quickly drew their sword. Al Mualim had not fought yet, and he was a Master, decades into his life. For all the experience and skill that they, the eight of them together, held, Al Mualim had  _ more. _ But they were not weak, and Al Mualim was not expecting them.

And, together, they attacked, their senses spread thin. They parried for several blows as they tested each other’s strength. Al Mualim attacked with brute force, and Altair countered, circling the blade away. They shifted their grip so that when they turned on their foot, the hilt of their sword jammed into Al Mualim’s gut. He stumbled back, and then-

Disappeared in a burst of light. An illusion.

Altair let out a low curse. A headache pounded against their head again as Al Mualim tried to enthrall them again. Their eagle screeched in outrage at the sensation, and it faded lightly.

The eagle.

Altair started to understand.

The Apple only created illusions. Tricks of the mind, when the mind and its capacity to choose was revered by Assassins. To think, to learn, to grow. To see past the the lies and the  _ illusions _ of the world.

Nothing is True. Everything is Permitted.

Altair  _ reached, _ not to their other selves, as they would normally do when they needed more strength. No, they reached to the eagle in their heart and mind, who shared its sight with them. Who protected them from the Apple. They had trained their second sight, and had gotten more aware of the eagle. But they had never  _ reached _ for it before, content that it was there at all.

They reached now. The eagle called joyfully, and Altair could feel…  _ everything. _ Their senses expanded. Sounds, sights, smells, touch. They could feel the eagle’s wings, the feathers, as the eagle within their heart and mind flowed through their body. Altair felt the wings that they known for so long were  _ there, _ but never felt, never saw.

_ Nothing is True. _ Even illusions. Even the boundaries they imagined existed between Altair and the eagle.

_ Everything is Permitted. _ What influence the Apple had in casting illusions upon Altair shattered into shards of light like glass.

Altair was the eagle, and the eagle was Altair, and their sight was their  _ second _ sight no longer. The awareness they had of the world didn’t strain their senses, it simply  _ was. _ The smoke billowed over everything, in shapes and colors they had never seen before. It trailed through things it never had before, no longer centered only on people and their thoughts.

And, like a beacon, Altair could see their prey. They would swoop down, and kill their enemy. It was easy to take out a throwing knife and toss it, almost casually. It missed its mark, slightly, hitting the shoulder but not the heart.

“I am an eagle, Al Mualim,” Altair said, blinking bright, golden eyes at where they knew their prey was. “My blade sees for me. It cuts through the lies.”

The blood called to them, their prey, their  _ enemy, _ wounded. Altair jumped down, and grabbed their sword, striking. It was blocked, but Altair  _ saw _ the opening that created, and kicked Al Mualim in the gut. He disappeared again.

Altair frowned, and looked around. The headache returned, Al Mualim once again attempting to stop them. With a flex of their wings, the headache stopped.  _ Ah, over there. _ Altair threw another throwing knife, which hit Al Mualim in the leg. They followed up quickly, sprinting and jumping and  _ striking-  _

Al Mualim moved, and blocked the strike. Altair shoved at him, twisting on their foot, and pushed him back. As Al Mualim moved backwards, steadying his stance, the headache returned. It was harsher this time, and noise like static filled their ears.

Oh, but Altair was strong.  _ They _ were strong. It took barely a thought before the pain was pushed back, leaving their senses clear. Al Mualim clearly didn’t expect the ease of it, and Altair struck at his other leg. Another swing, and this time they broke an arm.

“Curse you, Altair!”

_ There. _ Altair pounced, wings spread, and they reached with their talons. Their hidden blade pierced their prey’s chest, below the heart and into the lung. The Apple fell out of his hand, never having let it go during the fight, and it rolled away.

“Impossible,” Al Mualim gasped, as he watched the Apple. He looked up, confused. “The student does not defeat the teacher.”

“We teach so that the next generation will surpass us,” Altair said. Then, more softly, “Nothing is absolute, and everything is possible.” Such as being an eagle shaped into human form.

“So it seems,” Al Mualim said, almost thoughtful. “You have won then. Go claim your prize.”

“You held fire in your hands. It should have been destroyed,” Altair sighed.

Could they even destroy a Piece of Eden?

“Destroy the only thing capable of bringing peace? Never,” Al Mualim stated.

“Then I will,” Altair said.

“We will see,” Al Mualim said. He closed his eyes, and died.

Despite everything, Altair took a shuddering breath, and mourned the man that had been a constant in their life. They felt the others press up against them, lending them their collective strength.

They stood, woozy, as their tight focus loosened slightly. As such, they felt the strain they had been putting themselves through; fighting the influence of the Apple, fighting the illusions, had seemed so simple. Well, it wasn’t, and they were now  _ exhausted. _

“I feel like you,” Altair said wryly to Desmond, who rolled their eyes.

“We need a vacation,” they sighed, and rubbed at their arms. They all agreed with the sentiment.

Altair turned to the Apple, which without the golden light it cast, was a simple silver ball. It passively tried to tempt them, but they brushed it aside with ease. Like this, it appeared harmless. A trinket.

As they stepped closer, the Apple started to glow. Altair hissed in surprise, and took a step backwards.

_ “I did not fight for our freedom so that people would bow to me.” _

A voice, from nowhere, strange and yet somehow incredibly familiar.

Light coalesced from the Apple, and it emitted something upwards. It turned into the shape of a sphere, and soon enough it turned into-

“That’s the globe,” Altair said. Lights flickered on the map, locations set in place for some odd reason. One in Jerusalem, one in Giza, England, North America, Australia… so many places.

“Those are other Pieces of Eden,” they hissed in surprise, “Where they are in this time.”

“This is what Vidic wanted,” they said, blinking. “Fuck, shit, they wanted the map this entire fucking time!”

“Altair!”

They turned at the sound of their name, and realized why they had not registered their presence until so. Malik and Rauf were  _ safe _ to their senses, and as such ignored. Still, Altair reached for Kadar, just to check that he was safe. They sighed when they still felt him, and the others, safely under the fortress in the caverns.

“Malik, Rauf,” Altair said, relieved. “You are well.”

“What is this?” Malik asked quietly, staring up at the globe.

“A map of the world,” Altair said simply.

“What does it mean?” Rauf asked, eyeing it. “That is not the map of the world we know…”

“Desmond knows it,” Altair said.

Altair turned back to it. Something about the Apple now was… different. It was still like the kaleidoscope, hypnotizing, but it wasn’t… Altair carefully kept from focusing on the Apple. It didn’t feel  _ bad, _ evil, in the way it had when Al Mualim used it. But it was still dangerous, even as  _ something… _

“Altair?” Malik asked concernedly.

“Oh,” they, Desmond said, reaching for their head. His head. “I think they’re pulling me out of the Animus-”

_ “We’ve got it!” _

Altair blinked at Desmond, and then their… his, other selves. What? No, the eight of them were still connected. They weren’t  _ trying _ to separate, were they?

“Altair?” Malik repeated.

Altair collapsed.

* * *

Lucy watched in concern as Desmond  _ gasped _ awake from the Animus. He flipped to the side, almost hitting his head in the visor before it could pull back all the way, and breathed heavily towards the ground. Lucy picked up the trash bin, alarmed, and handed it to him in case he threw up. That was a rather violent reaction, one that Desmond hadn’t had since they first put him in the Animus.

“What- what the  _ hell,” _ Desmond breathed, and sat up to press his hands into his eyes. “I- what happened?”

Lucy eyed him, glad that he still spoke English, but worried at the accent. It sounded vaguely Middle-Eastern. Altair’s influence, no doubt.

“Quiet, Desmond,” she whispered to him. “You might want to listen.”

Desmond blinked at her in confusion, but turned to see Warren standing in front of the conference room, talking with their superiors. Superiors that Lucy was actually rather terrified to see, no matter that she was also in awe. These people were ruthless and would have no problems killing her the moment her use was null and void.

Lucy was so very, very glad that Project Siren was a thing, faced with Alan Rikkin.

“Well?” Rikkin asked, focused entirely on Warren.

“We’ve go the map,” Warren replied.

“And? How many?”

Warren smiled proudly. “At least half a dozen.”

Desmond looked to her, worried, and still exhausted. The bags under his eyes were deeper than when he went in. Lucy shook her head minutely. He was observant enough to pick up micro movements. Desmond turned back to the conference room.

“We don’t need them all,” Rikkin said, frowning.

“We can assume some amount of decay,” Vidic replied, “I can’t imagine they’ll all still be functioning. At least two appear to reside on landmasses that no longer exist.”

“We’ll dispatch teams to each site and determine viability. We only need  _ one _ after all.”

“What about the rest?” Warren asked.

“Collect them,” Rikkin said, “Let’s not leave anything to chance. Last thing we need is some damn survivor making trouble for us in the New World.”

Desmond stiffened. Lucy watched him from the corner of her eye, and shivered lightly. The expression on his face was-

“And the Assassin?” Warren asked, smiling. Lucy took a breath, ready to do her part.

“We have what we need. Kill him,” Rikkin said dismissively.

Desmond stiffened, this time in fear. Lucy took that as her cue. “Wait! You know how these things work. I  _ doubt _ we’ll be able to walk right in.”

“What’s your point?” Rikkin asked.

“We might need him,” Lucy answered. Warren took a step forward, predatory. “His memories. I’d recommend we hold him until we have confirmation that there aren’t any surprises waiting for us at the sites.”

“This is a  _ waste of time,” _ Warren scoffed. Lucy knew that despite their plans, Warren would no doubt enjoy killing Desmond.

So, it didn’t take much acting to turn to him. “You said it yourself. We shouldn’t be leaving anything to chance.”

“Very well,” Rikkin nodded. “Ensure we have no further need of him,  _ then _ kill him.”

“Fine,” Warren grumbled.

Rikkin turned sharply on his heel, and he and his two guards left the conference room. They were silent as they all left.

Next part, then.

As soon as the door closed, Warren turned to her, angrily. “Stop undermining my authority!”

“I just saved your ass!” Lucy yelled back.

“Let’s go,” Warren growled, and walked away. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.” He paused in front of Desmond. “Don’t get too comfortable yet, Mister Miles. We’ll be back for you soon enough.”

Lucy moved to follow Warren. She glanced at Desmond, and felt her stomach go cold at the expression on his face as he watched them. The look in his eyes was-

Lucy continued after Warren. She could think about it later. Now, she had an escape to plan.

If only to stop Desmond from doing it on his own.

0o0o0


	8. Chapter 8

Desmond blinked after Lucy and Vidic, his vision still black at the edges, and nausea churning in his gut. He felt chilled, but when he pressed a hand to his forehead, it came a way feverish. That made sense. Desmond just had a rather extreme physical reaction in response to some negative mental distress.

He stood up from the Animus and mechanically went to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water and drank a couple of mouthfuls. The cool water against his face did make him feel better, and his mouth didn’t feel so dry. He still felt like he could collapse for a week and not even care.

“Escape…” Desmond murmured, and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. The pressure alleviated some of the headache. “Ugh.”

If he sat down, he wouldn’t get back up for hours at least. Desmond walked to the closet and grabbed his old clothes. They were wrinkled to hell and back, and the shirt had some sweat stains, but at least they weren’t covered in trackers. He changed into them, and he felt marginally better in his old hoodie.

Depending on how long it took Abstergo to find the Pieces of Eden the map had shown them, Desmond had anywhere from a few hours to a few days to escape. If he took into account how long it had been since Altair’s time, degradation, as well as other environmental factors… 

He sighed, and climbed into bed. Lucy, at least, petitioned that he was still useful. Desmond felt safe enough in the time limit that he could sleep. Not for days, like he wanted to, but for at least a few hours.

Desmond closed his eyes, and reached for his other selves. It hurt. Whatever the Apple had done to them at the end, hurt. Being pulled forcefully away through the Animus, hurt. It was like an ache deep in his bones, but in his heart and mind.

“Desmond?” Ezio and Elise asked, their voices echoed through each other. It made sense that they retreated to each other afterwards. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he replied, and leaned into their mental touch. It throbbed lightly, as if doing so pressed against bruises. Desmond ignored it. The comfort was more important. “Are you?”

“Better than you,” Ezio replied tiredly. “You were pulled away, but the rest of us just returned to where we were.”

“We’re tired, and could sleep, but we don’t  _ hurt,” _ Elise said.

The others all arrived slowly. Ratonhnhaké:ton and Jun arrived first. Then Evie, and then Aveline. They all wrapped themselves around each other, both a physical and mental group hug. They needed it, and it soothed the aches of being forcefully pulled apart when they were blended so thoroughly.

“Where’s Altair?” Desmond asked tiredly, searching for him. He was  _ there, _ but it was a distant thing. Like he was ignoring them, which absolutely was not possible. Not for them.

“He’s unconscious,” Aveline said, and pressed closer. “I tried to hold onto him, but the Apple did something.”

“It… glowed, and did  _ something _ at the end,” Desmond recalled. It took longer than it should. His thoughts were sluggish. “Not the map. But I thought I heard it talking.”

“It did,” Ezio confirmed, and pressed his face further into Elise’s shoulder. “I don’t remember what it said, but it spoke.”

“Do you think it was speaking specifically to Altair?” Elise asked.

“If he’s unconscious from it, probably,” Aveline said.

“It might be because of what he did,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “You felt it, right?”

“Yes,” Desmond said, which was quickly echoed by them all. “He did  _ something _ with his second sight.”

“He reached for the eagle we have in our minds instead of us,” Aveline said softly and tiredly, thinking back. “You think that strained something?”

“Well, it might be part of everything that happened,” Jun sighed. “But in this case, I think it did something…  _ important. _ It feels important at least.”

Desmond thought about it. Ugh, it even hurt to think. “It was. Because if Altair is unconscious, we shouldn’t be able to feel him like this.”

“We always said that we had wings connecting us,” Aveline said slowly, thinking it over. “But it’s like he connected the eagle in our minds to the wings we already had?”

“That makes as much sense as any,” Jun agreed.

“Is this going to affect your second sight?” Elise asked.

“I… have no idea,” Ezio said. “At this point, all we can do is wait and see.”

“Malik and Rauf were there,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “Altair will be well taken care of.”

Desmond sighed, and pressed closer to them. He wished Altair were there. At least they could  _ feel _ him.

“Now we need to focus on your escape,” Evie said to Desmond. “You’re exhausted. We’re  _ all _ exhausted. But they are going to kill you if we don’t get out.”

“I know,” Desmond said. He might have accidentally scared Lucy, earlier. He hadn’t bothered hiding his emotions. He certainly felt murderous then. Now, it was settled into determination, even if he was exhausted.

“We still have the key codes to leave the bedroom,” Elise said. “But now we need a way to exit the Animus room.”

“It needs a key card,” Ezio said, “But for guards to get in, they need a key card as well.”

“I’m not going to be at my best, but a team is generally three or four only,” Desmond said. “And if I can take down the team sent in here to kill me, it’ll also give me weapons and  _ maybe _ some armor.”

“Which is a start,” Evie said. “But Abstergo and Templars aren’t stupid. We’re going to have to assume that even if we get their key cards, there will still be key codes, and likely locks that they won’t be able to access.”

“Codes should be fine,” Aveline said, shaking her head, “Our second sight will give us the numbers for that, even if we have to figure out the sequence on our own.”

“It should help that they won’t expect us to leave,” Elise said, “Maybe to attempt it, but not with all of the skills we have at our disposal. They might even be expecting the Bleeding Effect to hinder us even further.”

“We can definitely hide from the cameras too,” Jun said, “My second sight is focused on such things after all. That will give us an edge that we otherwise wouldn’t have.”

“Right,” Desmond said, and closed his eyes. “We have a plan, or the start of one at least. But we can’t go anywhere until they come, and I need  _ sleep.” _ Even if it felt like a bad idea.

“Sleep,” Evie said, “We’ll watch over you.”

* * *

Desmond blinked sleepily awake when Evie nudged him, a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and rubbed at his eyes. It helped wake him up and relieve the slight headache he had. Ugh, but he actually felt  _ worse. _ Sleeping was better in the long run, but it still made him that much more aware of how badly he felt.

“Something is happening,” Evie said to him. The others had all climbed out of bed to stand guard.

“Right, right,” Desmond said, and quickly stood up. He stretched his arms above his head, sighing in relief when it popped. “That was faster than we expected, right?”

“It’s been five hours,” Elise confirmed, watching the door warily. “Altair is still unconscious, but he’s sleeping instead of passed out right now.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said, and reached for Altair. Yes, he did feel more relaxed than before. Altair’s mental presence was distant and it still felt like he was ignoring them. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“No, but  _ something _ is,” Evie said, and turned her attention to where  _ something _ was presumably happening. “I don’t know- it’s not a bad thing, I don’t think? But we need to be prepared for anything.”

“Is it Lucy?” Desmond asked. If it were just an extreme sense of danger, he’d assume that Abstergo was sending guards to kill him. But if Evie said it wasn’t  _ bad, _ necessarily…

Evie blinked, and  _ focused _ for a second. “...Yes, it is. I’m not as familiar with her as you are, but she’s part of this. It’s hard to tell, since I’ve not tagged her while she was here.”

“If she’s part of it, then you’ll get the chance,” Aveline said.

“Right,” Desmond said, and waited.

They waited for nearly ten minutes. Desmond blinked tiredly at the wall Sixteen had written on, his eyes catching  _ I’ve entered the Abyss _ thoughtlessly. Something… It was something that he might eventually fall to if they didn’t leave.

Desmond was pulled from his thoughts about Sixteen when the door beeped. It was the alert that someone was entering. He settled a little to the side, and got ready for anything.

Lucy strode in. She wore jeans, sneakers, and a form-fitting athletic white shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail instead of bun. There was bloodstains on her shirt, almost a beacon in its color difference.

“Lucy? What?” Desmond asked, blinking tiredly at her.

“We’ll figure it out later,” Evie said, watching Lucy with narrowed eyes. “Right now, she’s helping us.”

“We have to go,” Lucy said firmly. She spoke in a tone Desmond hadn’t heard her use before. Actually, she stood differently than she had. More confident, and aware of her own strength. This was the Assassin that they assumed her to be. It was a good look on her.

“Okay?” Desmond said, and followed her out of the bedroom and into the room with the Animus. “What’s with the blood? Are you okay?”

Lucy frowned and went to the Animus, pressing some keys. “Look, we have maybe ten minutes,  _ maybe, _ before they figure out what I’ve done. If we’re not out of here and on the road before then…”

“And I need to get into the Animus  _ first?” _ Desmond asked incredulously. “That’s a bunch of time wasted right there.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, but shook her head. “I know, but we need you in here to retrieve the data from the memory core.”

“So… you’re stealing it?” Desmond asked.

_ “Yes, _ Desmond,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. “Now get in, the faster we get it over with, the faster we can leave.”

“Are you sure you want me in there with how long it takes me to synchronize?” Desmond asked, even as he walked towards the Animus. He was all for stealing shit from Abstergo.

“She’s green,” Evie said, watching Lucy with golden eyes. “She’s an ally right now. But I can’t tell if she’s  _ blue _ or not.”

“That’s good enough for right now,” Aveline said, “We can figure out more, later.”

“We’re not trying to get you into a memory, it won’t take more than a minute,” Lucy said in clipped tones. She glanced to the door worriedly. “Please hurry up, Desmond.”

“Okay,” Desmond agreed. He really, really didn’t want to do this. But he climbed into the Animus, and watched with trepidation as the visor slid over his face.

The menus opened over him, and he blinked when he realized that they were the menus he didn’t have access to previously. Huh, Lucy wasn’t bothering with the admin controls to keep them hidden from him this time around.

_ Subject Seventeen: Desmond Miles _

_ Subject Sixteen: *** _

Wait, what?

“Lucy-” Desmond started, confused. He’d never seen any reference to Sixteen in the Animus before.

“Oh, that’s not good. Lucy-” he heard Elise say, from where she watched what Lucy was doing.

_ Memory match found. Accessing memory… _

And then they all fell away.

* * *

_ It was tight and warm and small, then it was not- _

_ -there’s too much blood- _

_ -he’s a fighter- _

_ -that’s it, breathe deeply- _

_ -oh my god she’s beautiful- _

_ -take deep breaths now- _

_ -she has strong lungs- _

_ -we have her and the other one is- _

_ -you’re doing great, dear, keep it up- _

_ It was cold, and big, and too bright. _

_ But then there was something warm and familiar. _

_ Mother? _

_ -i love you, altair- softly and weakly _

_ -ezio auditore da firenze!- a declaration _

_ -i will call her jun- tiredly _

_ -let’s name her aveline- with tears and remorse _

_ -ratonhnhaké:ton- simply and proudly _

_ -what about elise?- offered excitedly _

_ -they’re evie and jacob, i love- with dying breath _

_ -we chose the name desmond- simply and with love _

_ That is. Me? _

* * *

Desmond woke up slowly, blinking through his tears up through the Animus visor. His limbs felt so, so weak. Like trying to move after a long illness. His sight was blurry, but he couldn’t tell if it were his tears or just exhaustion.

“Desmond?” Lucy asked, looking at him worriedly. Even so, she pulled a USB from the Animus and stuck it in her pants pocket. “Fuck, you have a nosebleed-”

“Wha-” Desmond tried, blinked some more as he felt something wet sliding down his face from around his nose. Huh. He did have a nosebleed. He thought it might’ve just been snot. Desmond wasn’t a pretty crier by any stretch of the imagination.

“Come on, that didn’t take as long as I thought, but we still need to move-” Lucy said, and quickly went to help Desmond sit up. “Are you okay?”

Desmond blinked at her. His sight was still off, so he used his second sight. Oh. She glowed blue right now. Sure, she had red in her, but right now she was firmly on his side. That was good. He leaned into her, too tired to really care.

“I’m okay,” he said tiredly. “Do you have-”

“Here,” Lucy said, and gave him some tissue. “Come on, wipe your face quickly, we have to get out of here.”

“Okay,” Desmond agreed. He quickly wiped the blood off. It wasn’t enough, but at least he wasn’t dripping anymore. He ignored his tears, because they were still coming.

Wow. Desmond just remembered his birth. That sure was a thing that just happened.

Oh wait. What about the others? Desmond reached for them and sighed in relief when he felt them reach back. They didn’t bother visiting each other. They were still rather in shock, but at least they felt each other. Oh! Even better, Altair was awake now. Probably not the best thing to wake up  _ to,  _ honestly, but-

Yeah, they could all talk. Later.

“Desmond,” Lucy said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. Yeah, they were escaping, weren’t they? “Can you walk?”

He looked at her. Huh, he was on his feet now. That was good. He took a cautious step, and sighed in relief when he didn’t tumble. “Not quickly,” he said. “But you don’t have to help me, either.”

“Good enough,” Lucy said, and led him through the room. “Follow me. We need to get out of here, ten minutes ago.”

“Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve,” Desmond mumbled. “Didn’t have to stick me in the Animus. You get the thing?”

“Yes, I got the memory data,” Lucy said, looking at him worriedly. “You sure you can keep up?”

Desmond hummed. “Yeah. We’re getting out of here, I’m not stopping now.”

He didn’t think he’d be able to fight right now, not without consequences. But as long as the guards didn’t have bows- Wait,  _ guns, _ this was the twenty-first century. Yeah, as long as there weren’t guns, he’d be fine. Besides, Lucy was an Assassin. At the very least she had training. She could take care of herself.

Lucy led him out of the room. Like they thought, the hallway was rather empty, but the hallways were tall. It was all modern lines and glass and concrete. Lucy kept glancing back at him, even as she power walked, visibly worried about him.

Desmond blinked at her, and kept up his slow jog. Not his fastest by any means, but it was a pace he could keep up for a while yet. He wondered how terrible he looked. His face was probably bloated from crying, and his eyes would be puffy. Not to mention the nosebleed. He didn’t clean his face properly, so he wouldn’t be surprised if his face was covered in drying blood. Desmond wasn’t actively crying anymore, but his eyes were still blurry from the tears.

He looked down at his hoodie, and saw a couple of drops of blood on it. Well, that would be a pain in the butt to get rid of. At least he could just bleach it out. Which was one of the reasons he had bought a white hoodie, actually…

“Desmond, stay close,” Lucy murmured when they came up to a turn in the hallway. She turned to look, and then led down the rest of the hallway to the elevators at the end.

He startled when he felt the red presence of enemies. Fuck, he hadn’t been paying proper attention.“Lucy-” Desmond tried to warn.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be up here!”

They were on the other side of a glass wall, another key card blocking them from coming through the door. They glowed red and wore Abstergo security uniforms, and they tugged at the door. One of them tried their key card, but the lock beeped red at them.

Lucy didn’t even look at them, and started sprinting, completely ignoring the elevators she had just been leading them to. Desmond cursed lowly, and pushed himself faster. He couldn’t sprint, but he did keep up a decent clip.

“We have a breach in the research wing. I repeat, there has been a breach in the research wing…”

Well, that was even worse news. Desmond cursed again when he heard the radio chatter behind them, and hurried after Lucy. Even as she rushed, Lucy kept glancing at him to make sure that he was still behind her. Her expression was determined, and her eyes flinty.

Lucy led them through the inevitable maze of hallways and offices and labs, all visible through reinforced and likely plexiglass walls. Whoever decided that glass walls would make for good interior decorating was obviously drunk. At least the structural aspects were a solid and flat gray instead, though it did nothing to hide how industrial the place felt.

They came across another two guards, and they both pulled batons from their sides. They surged to life with electricity, and Desmond blinked. Oh, good. No guns here, not with all the glass and likely sensitive experiments going on. But shock batons were slightly harder to deal with than regular ones. Nothing Desmond couldn’t handle, of course, but he was exhausted right now-

Oh, look at Lucy go. She didn’t even hesitate, and rushed forward. She didn’t jump as highly as Desmond expected, but she managed to knee a guard in the chest. As that one fell back, she twisted on her heel and dodged a baton strike. She grabbed the wrist with the baton, and with her free hand did a quick strike to the face.

The baton dropped as that guard clutched at his face, and Lucy picked it up. She struck both guards in the abdomen with the baton, the electric discharge tazing them both. The two guards fell to the ground, moaning in pain, and out of the fight.

Wow. Lucy was a pretty good fighter. Nice.

Lucy looped the stun baton on her own belt loop, and kept running. Desmond hurried after her, grimacing. He could keep going, but if they didn’t leave soon he’d be regretting pushing himself. Well, he already did, but soon enough he would  _ regret _ it.

Not a minute later, Lucy led them to another elevator, Desmond slowed to a walk, shifting on his feet. Movement was key. The moment he stopped, he’d crash, and that would be a bad idea. Lucy audibly sighed in relief when the elevator doors closed behind them.

Desmond blinked at the camera. He borrowed Jun’s second sight, and sighed in relief as the circle came away clean. They were in the camera’s line of sight, of course, but it wasn’t recording them.

“What about the cameras?” Desmond asked Lucy.

“I rigged them on a loop of old footage,” Lucy said, and rubbed at her arms. She breathed slowly, keeping calm. “It’s how I kept your nighttime wanderings from Warren.”

Blatant lie. Those cameras never stopped recording. But it was the truth right now, and Desmond grinned at her. “You’re good.”

Lucy smirked at him proudly. “It’s been said.” Her face smoothed out, determined once again, her eyes flinty as she watched him. “But they’re on to us now, so we need to hurry.”

“Understatement, but sure,” Desmond said wryly.

Lucy rolled her eyes at him. It was nice, seeing more emotion from her. Regardless of whether or not she was a Templar plant or not, she didn’t act herself in front of Vidic. He was her superior, and she kept herself professional. Here and now, with her focused on getting them out, Lucy was more free to be herself.

_ “I like her,” _ Elise murmured in the back of his mind.

When the elevator doors opened, Lucy led the way. She moved cautiously, looking around for anyone. Desmond blinked, and decided not to let her know about his Eagle Vision. At least not here. The cameras might be on a loop, but audio surveillance was still a thing.

“We need to get to the elevators on the other side of this room,” Lucy whispered to him. “Follow me, but keep an eye out, yeah? I’d rather avoid a fight.”

“Yeah, sure,” Desmond agreed.

The room that they came out into was large, with incredibly tall ceilings, and exposed support beams. Along the top edge there was a walkway, meant to look down on everything below. It looked like a warehouse converted into office space. But the offices were mostly glass, with only a single wall being solid, and supporting electricity. Did no one in Abstergo ever hear of privacy?

Eh. Templars. Probably not.  _ Rude, _ Elise murmured.

Lucy led them through the offices. They kept half-way crouched, bent and walking low, keeping out of sight from anyone that could see them from above. Desmond glanced in some of the cubicles and saw not desks but-

“Are those  _ Animus?” _ Desmond asked. He glanced back, and ahead, and saw that they were absolutely  _ filled _ with them. That shape and color was impossible to forget. How many were there? How many people did they kidnap? The way Vidic spoke about putting Desmond into a coma implied that they had done this before, yes, but this was a veritable army.

He was Subject Seventeen. Seventeen people was already a lot when Desmond thought that the Animus he used was the only one. And what made that Animus so special that it had its own area? It was pretty removed from literally  _ all of this. _ What did they even need with all of them? It couldn’t be just be the research and development team. There was no way they could finance all of these just for product development…

Lucy didn’t answer him, just led him through. Either she focused too much or not enough if she didn’t decide to answer him. Something to work on. Assassins by nature had to be multi-taskers. They couldn’t afford not to be. Even when they were busy trying to escape, Assassins should be able to hold a conversation.

They cleared the Animus farm and came upon the elevator. Lucy quickly slid a card into the key reader, and punched in a code.

“Fuck,” Lucy said when nothing happened. “I thought this card would work. It has to be on a separate system and I don’t have the code.”

_ Truth. _ Desmond blinked golden eyes at the keypad. “Wait,” he said to her, and stepped up to it. The keypads glowed that teal blue of  _ fingerprints, _ and he hummed. He tried the sequence in order. Nothing. The sequence in backwards order? Nothing. A third order and-

The light on the keypad lit up green, and the doors slid open.

Lucy looked to Desmond in surprise. “How did you do that?”

Desmond blinked at her, and rubbed the tears from his eyes. Ugh. He was starting to tear up from exhaustion now. Desmond really needed to sleep. “The numbers were worn down compared to the rest of them,” he explained. “And there are only so many combinations you can do.”

Lucy hummed thoughtfully, but shook her head. They entered the elevator. She pressed the button for what looked like the parking garage. A way of escape. Though how they would- drive, presumably- out when they were prepared for it…

“The escape itself is running normally to give it that sense of proper escape,” Evie said, appearing next to him. She rubbed at her eyes, groaning. “Ugh. Jacob’s supporting me, but we all still need to rest. Anyways. Planned escape, but the escape is going as if it were actually an escape.” Evie looked to him, and then disappeared back to England.

Well. Fuck. Okay then.

Desmond would have to wait and see. Lucy was still blue in his sight. Still an ally in this moment. She was escaping with him. Even if it was planned, she was willing to get hurt in the process.

“I think we’ve been wrong all along,” Lucy said, “That’s why we need to get out of here. Vidic and the Templars, they’re only part of the problem…”

Only  _ part? _ Desmond blinked at her, confused as to where she was going with this. With his teary eyes, bloody nose, and the memory of their  _ births _ still running in the back of his mind, Desmond honestly was reaching the edge of his rope.

“What do you mean?” he asked plainly.

“I’ll explain when we get there,” Lucy said firmly.

“Get  _ where?” _ Desmond asked, somewhat frustrated. They were in Rome, Italy. There were Assassin cells in the country, he knew that, but-

Oh fuck. There were Assassin cells.

If Lucy was working with the Assassins, either as a double agent or a triple agent or  _ whatever-  _ that meant that Desmond’s parents knew exactly where he was. A near decade spent under the radar, hiding from Assassins and Templars both, and his parents  _ knew where he was. _

...could Desmond just hide in the Animus again?

0o0o0


	9. Chapter 9

“Lucy, where are we going?” Desmond asked again, trying to control his shaking.

For some reason, he never thought he’d be so frightened at the thought of seeing his parents again. Yeah, it had been a nebulous idea in the back of his mind as he started his makeshift Order in New York, but it had been a  _ future _ worry.

He thought he would have more control on when and how his parents would learn of where he was. That he would have his friends and family to back him up, to provide moral support. But now, here he was, kidnapped and just escaping in an entirely different country, a literal ocean away from his captains.

“Desmond,  _ calm down,” _ Evie murmured, appearing and leaning heavily on him. She wasn’t as bone-tired as Desmond was, but she was still tired. He took the strength she offered gratefully. Evie had Jacob and Henry looking after her. She was safe and could offer it.

Lucy didn’t answer him, frowning. The elevator stopped and gave a little  _ ding, _ and then the doors opened. Yeah, it was a parking garage. He spared some looks at the cars, making note of the different makes. Ziv would love hearing about them.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, several more guards came around the corner. Desmond and Evie cursed lowly, and he felt the others shift in the back of his mind, ready to provide strength for this fight.

There were five guards, and they ran towards them, shock batons already at the ready. Lucy leapt into the fray, her stolen shock baton already in her grip. She used it mercilessly and with skill, parrying blows aside and using the momentum to hit a guard in the abdomen.

Desmond held back, willing to leave it to her. Two guards weren’t so ready to leave him, though, and they charged at him, batons at the ready. He sighed, and got ready to move.

He ducked under the opening swing, and swept his leg out to knock that guard off his feet. Desmond twisted on his heel and struck with his other leg into the other guard’s shin. That guard flinched and stepped back. Desmond turned to the fallen guard and disarmed him of his shock baton.

The other guard struck at him again, having regained his footing. Desmond parried the blow to the side. He used the opening knee the guard in the gut. Then he brought the shock baton to the guard’s head. That guard went down, unconscious.

Desmond turned to the remaining guard. He was getting up already. Desmond stepped forward and swung the shock baton, and hit the guard upside the head. That guard went down as well.

Desmond hummed at them, and put the now deactivated shock baton on his belt loop. That could have gone better, he felt. That felt messy. Oh well, he was exhausted, whatever.

He looked to Lucy, who was just dealing with the last of the guards that went after her. Several strands of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and framed her face. She blew them away from her face and stood straight, and turned to him.

“Come on then,” Lucy said, eyeing the guards he put on the ground.

Her voice was gruff and somewhat breathless, likely from the fight. Endurance was another thing they needed to work on, then. But she had some pretty solid basics down, and experience with weapons. He wondered how she’d do with freerunning.

“Okay,” Desmond agreed, and followed after her through the garage.

Lucy led them to a rather plain white car, and opened the trunk. She nodded at it. “Get in.”

“You’re joking,” Desmond said flatly, eyeing it. He was a pretty tall guy, all things considered. He could fit in the trunk, but with all the equipment in there, it’d be… uncomfortable. Especially with the tire iron.

“It’s for your own protection,” Lucy said simply.

“Oh man,” Desmond groaned. It was the best way to keep him hidden from cameras and whatnot. This absolutely was not going to help with his exhaustion. Still, he climbed into the trunk.

Lucy smiled at him. “We’re almost there,” she said softly, and shut the trunk.

Desmond sighed. The ride was going to be uncomfortable and awkward and kind of painful no matter what. So, he took the chance to close his eyes and go literally anywhere else.

“Are you sure Lucy isn’t kidnapping you into a worse situation?” Ezio asked dryly.

Desmond blinked and found himself in Ezio’s bedroom in Florence. Elise was curled up next to him, blinking tiredly at them both. Desmond sighed and just. Faceplanted. Right next to them. Oh, but the bed felt  _ amazing, _ oh my god, Desmond never wanted to get up.

“Where is Lucy taking you?” Elise mumbled into Desmond’s shoulder, having curled into it the moment Desmond got into bed.

“I have no idea,” Desmond replied.

He grimaced as he felt a new bruise appearing on his shoulder. Distantly, he could feel his body being jostled around, but he very deliberately ignored it. His body would hate him when he returned; it likely would be hours of driving if they were leaving Rome. If they left Rome. Shit.

“You were panicking earlier,” Ezio said, arm thrown over Desmond’s waist. “Because you’re being taken to an Assassin cell.”

“My parents know where I am,” Desmond said plainly and into the bed. He wondered if he could. Just. You know, suffocate himself here so he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

“Yeah, they do,” Elise said. “I’m more worried about whether it’s your mom or your dad that will be going to you.”

“...I’d prefer my dad,” Desmond mumbled. He liked his mom more, but his mom was a lot scarier than his dad. He’d rather deal with his dad’s disappointment and snide comments.

Desmond would rather not deal with them  _ at all. _ Fuck, but there was a goddamn reason why he left, and it wasn’t entirely because the Farm was a half-assed version of a proper Brotherhood.

“We don’t know if they’ll be coming anyways,” Ezio said, “You’re dad is pretty busy with his networking and your mom is a teacher.”

“They’ll be getting reports from me either way,” Desmond said.

“Ami is in the Hephaestus network, she’ll know immediately where you are,” Elise said. “She can also send you messages about your parent’s location.”

Desmond turned his head to the side and breathed deeply. Yeah. That sounded good. Ami was how they avoided all contact with Assassins and Templars in New York. If she hadn’t found him in Abstergo’s systems already, she did have contact with Erudito. And Erudito could be counted on helping them, if only as a giant fuck you to Abstergo.

“How are you doing?” Desmond asked, deciding to forget about his own problems for the moment.

“Tired and trying to forget being  _ born,” _ Ezio mumbled. He turned to Desmond. “Why are you descended from me?” he asked, whining a little.

Desmond blinked at him. “What?”

“You’re descended from Ezio,” Elise said, eyes closed. “That’s how the Animus works. It reads your DNA, checks your genetic memory, and then has you relive your ancestors’ memories. And it was Ezio being born that triggered the rest of us.”

Desmond stared at Ezio, and Ezio stared at him. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ezio agreed.

Desmond thought about it. “Please tell me I’m not descended from literally anyone else in the group.”

“We have no idea,” Elise said.

“Ugh,” Desmond groaned and pressed his face into the bed again. Then he remembered- “Wait. I think Sixteen is descended from you too.”

Elise looked at him, eyes blurry. “Yeah, we already had this discussion. Sixteen was attached to the same memory files as you.”

“And that could only happen if you had a common ancestor,” Ezio said. He smiled. It was more of a grimace. “In this case, that means me.”

Desmond stared at them both, and then pressed his face into Ezio’s chest. It was closer. “The fuck is my life, guys. Altair was easy to deal with, he’s far enough back that I’m probably related to half of Masyaf, and Jerusalem, and Acre and… yeah. But you’re a bit closer.” Though there were still a few centuries between them, it was a much easier lineage to track.

“I am,” Ezio agreed. “It’s not like I dislike being related to you, however distant. It’s the Animus I have problems with.”

“Giant breach of privacy it is,” Elise said.

Desmond closed his eyes and breathed. “Ugh. Still part of my problems. Ignoring my problems right now.”

“Sorry,” Elise said.

“Right,” Ezio agreed.

“Shit,” Desmond said, remembering what they had done  _ before _ Lucy put him in the Animus again. Ezio and Elise nudged him forward when they felt where his thoughts were going.

Desmond reached for Altair. He didn’t really have the energy to do so, since he was both mentally and physically exhausted. But Altair had just been through a rather intense situation and deserved his effort.

“Altair. How are you?” Desmond asked as he appeared in Masyaf.

Altair turned to him. He had large bruises under his eyes, and he trembled slightly. But he was on his feet and walking around. Why, Desmond had no idea. He should be in bed.

“You. Why did you have to make me remember being born?” Altair asked plainly.

“Not my fault,” Desmond whined, but went to wrap Altair in a hug anyways. “Didn’t answer my question though,” he mumbled into Altair’s shoulder.

“I know,” Altair sighed, and held Desmond tight. Hopefully people just saw him rest against a wall. “Busy. We need to deal with the bodies, and with what happened.”

“The Apple?” Desmond asked. That was a rather important thing.

“Malik hid it,” Altair said. “Locked it in one of Isra’s hidden chests.”

“That’s good,” Desmond said, and stepped back. He gripped Altair’s hand, not wanting to lose contact. “Al Mualim?”

“We’re going to burn the body,” Altair said, and started walking back down the hallway.

Desmond swore lowly. “That’s not going to make any of them happy.”

“It’s not, but I pressed for it by assuring them that we’d have proper funeral rights for Al Mualim, from a culture that does cremate their dead,” Altair said tiredly. “So his body is not being disrespected, but we are also making certain he’s gone.”

“How are the Assassins handling it?” Desmond asked. “Ours, the ones loyal to Al Mualim, and the ones we weren’t sure about?”

Altair closed his eyes. “We lost a couple of ours, who resisted the Apple long enough to hide the ones in the caverns. The rest are aware of what happened and are going forward with what we already meant to do. The ones loyal to Al Mualim are no longer so, aware of what he did to them, but they’re not on our side either. The neutral ones are more likely to follow my lead.”

“Malik? The others?”

“Furious at what happened, but tired and moving forward regardless,” Altair said, a small, proud smile on his lips. “We’re doing triage right now. Getting everyone and everything situated for the night. Tomorrow, we handle literally everything else.”

“Not exactly how we pictured making you Mentor,” Desmond said dryly.

“No, not really,” Altair sighed.

“Fuck, but you’re going to have to sleep when this is over,” Desmond said. “We all are.”

“I know,” Altair said, and rubbed his eyes. “But I can’t, right now.”

Desmond sighed, and pressed their shoulders together. “We’re here for you. Always.”

Altair smiled at him and leaned right back. “Yes.” He sighed. “I can’t rest right now, but that doesn’t mean you need to stay with me. Go.”

“Take care of yourself,” Desmond said. “Malik, Isra, Rauf, Kadar, and Hawa are here, too.”

“Yes, I know,” Altair said, “Go, rest.”

* * *

Several hours later, and the car rumbled to a stop. Desmond didn’t quite register this until he heard Lucy call his name.

“I guess you’re where you need to be,” Aveline said. “Best go now.”

“I don’t wanna,” Desmond mumbled, and debated just continuing to sleep. He was comfortable with Aveline, Jun, and Ratonhnhaké:ton curled up in a pile. It was warm, and nice, and it soothed the aching feeling he still had.

“Shouldn’t worry her,” Jun said, and pushed gently at his shoulder. “Besides, you can probably sleep in an actual cot or something instead of a car trunk.”

Desmond groaned, but returned to his body. Oh, that was worse. He had a few new bruises from the tire iron, and likely all the bumps on the road.

“Thanks for that,” Desmond said to Lucy flatly. “It was absolutely  _ wonderful _ being shoved in a trunk. Being bounced around. Absolutely loved it.”

“Come on,” Lucy said, and helped him out of the trunk. Desmond stretched and groaned in relief as his joints popped. “This way.”

“So. Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?” Desmond asked. He glanced around. They were in what looked like a warehouse district. It was quiet here, and the light pollution was minimal. They had to be a good distance away from Rome.

“There was a reason for the escape, Desmond,” Lucy said.

“Figures,” Desmond sighed, even as he reached for the others. This sounded like it would be a  _ conversation, _ and he needed at least Elise here.

“We need your help,” Lucy said, and led them to a warehouse. They started climbing the outdoor stairs instead of heading inside immediately.

“For what?” Desmond asked warily. Elise appeared, blinking tiredly, Ezio leaning heavily into her shoulder, eyes half-lidded as he barely stayed awake. “Another treasure hunt through time?”

Lucy shook her head slightly. Desmond couldn’t quite see her expression. “Abstergo is going to replace their Apple of Eden. The map your ancestor found guarantees it. The Assassins will do what they can, where they can. But…”

“But what?” Desmond asked, frowning.

“We’re losing this war, Desmond,” Lucy said, pausing at a landing to turn to him. She looked so incredibly hurt, as if she couldn’t contain it.  _ Half-lie. _ The emotions were real, but exaggerated. Desmond frowned at her. “The Templars are too powerful. And every day, more of us die.”

Yeah, Desmond already knew this. Templars had adapted to the times, and maneuvered society into a form that they could use at will. Assassins, on the other hand, had  _ not. _ Desmond assumed that before the previous Mentor died, they did pretty well. But since then? Ha, no.

“I still don’t see how I fit into things,” Desmond said.

Because he did leave for a reason, and he was nearly a decade out of date. Or should be. The most he could see his parents wanting him back was because they were his  _ parents. _ And also to interrogate Desmond on how he had stayed under the radar for so long, since he didn’t get that kind of training on the Farm.

“We’re going to train you. Turn you into one of us.”

...What.

“What?” Desmond asked, voice cracking. “Wait. No, no- you’ve seen me, I can maybe do quick brawls. I left almost a decade ago for a  _ reason- _ it would take months,  _ years _ even-”

He might be panicking.

Fuck it, Desmond  _ was _ panicking. Because there was only two people that could make the call to immediately have him brought back into the fold, and they were his parents.

“No,” Lucy replied confidently, smiling. “Not with the Animus. Not with the Bleeding Effect.”

Holy fuck. Desmond stared wide-eyed at Lucy, all thoughts running to a halt. Was his breathing starting to get too shallow? It felt hard to breathe-

“Here-” Elise said quickly, and slid into place. She lightly shoved Desmond to Ezio, who wrapped him in a tight hug. “No.”

“Desmond-” Lucy started.

Elise shook her head. “No. I can’t-” Elise swallowed, and looked as miserable as possible. Not that hard since Desmond’s face was still a mess of dried tears and blood. “I- I can’t- I won’t make a decision until I clean up. And sleep. No.”

Lucy’s lips thinned into a line as she stared at Elise. But she sighed, and her expression softened.  _ Truth. _ That was good. “That’s probably the best idea, yes. Come on then, let’s head inside.”

“Calm,” Ezio murmured, arm wrapped around Desmond’s waist as they followed after Lucy.

The others didn’t appear, the walkway too narrow for all of them to fit, but Desmond could  _ feel _ them pressing up against his mind.

Desmond took several deep breaths. He was emotionally, mentally, and physically drained right now. It messed with his usual calm, and Desmond  _ really _ didn’t like it. He wanted a shower and to sleep for maybe a week straight. That wasn’t even taking into account that it wasn’t just  _ his _ stress that he felt. It was a culmination, because they were all too tired to remain properly separated.

“That’s not being calm,” Elise said, switching places with him. She wrapped an arm around his waist too, so that Desmond was supported by both of them.

“...sorry,” Desmond whispered. He didn’t say it quietly enough because Lucy turned to him.

“No, no- it’s okay,” Lucy said, and smiled sympathetically at him. “It’s a conversation we all can have when we’re rested.”

Lucy led them into the warehouse. It looked similar to the buildings that were being built during Evie’s time, which put the date to the Industrial Revolution. The walls were fogged over, either by design or age, and exposed brick was everywhere. It had metal supports instead of wooden ones, holding up the massive building.

The room above the actual warehouse had clearly been converted for Assassin use. It had modern lighting and clean hardwood floors. The windows were covered by window blinds, with heavy blackout curtains pushed to the side to let in natural light. The space had several desks, a living area with couches, and what looked like a bed behind a partition. There were large shelves pushed against the walls, filled with ancient looking books as well as modern manuals.

In the middle, almost like a centerpiece, was a reclined chair hooked up to servers.

Desmond blinked at it, as it glowed  _ golden _ under his second sight. He looked around the rest of the space and saw more servers. They flickered as they continued processing, working already. He didn’t hear the sound of any central heating or air conditioning, so it seemed that they were to be at the whim of the server banks.

That had to be an Animus. It already looked so much more comfortable than the one in Abstergo. Desmond resolutely still didn’t want to get into it.

A young adult dressed in form-fitting overalls and impressive looking headphones looked up when they walked in. “Lucy! You made it!” With that, they rushed to Lucy, and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s been so long! Seven years! Can you believe it?”

Lucy hugged them tightly in return, grinning broadly. Desmond blinked. That was the widest smile he had ever seen on her. He liked it.

“Indeed,” someone else said in a British accent. They looked like a historian with a sweater vest and everything. “Welcome back.”

These three had obviously known each other for a very long time. Desmond felt like he was intruding. He stilled, offering what privacy he could, but also looked at the three of them with his second sight.

Lucy, he noticed, had settled into a nice steady blue. She still had red, but her blue was better. It happened after she was hugged, so it seemed that she  _ trusted _ these people. But- seven years was a long time for anyone, so Desmond had to keep an eye on her.

The person with headphones was a vibrant blue, surprising to see, but also nice. There was also some hints of gold and white, indicating  _ importance _ and  _ information. _ This might be a true ally.

The British person was mostly white, indicating great amounts of potential information. Beyond that, they were all in shades of neutral-gray. They only had the barest hints of blue in them. Likely only an ally through supposed shared loyalties than anything else.

“Well,” Ezio said wryly, looking at them, “That one isn’t an enemy, at least.” That was true. There wasn’t a hint of red.

“Ah,” the British person said, turning to Desmond. They raised an eyebrow. “You must be the infamous Subject Seventeen. Desmond Miles, was it?”

Wow, did they  _ mean _ to sound so arrogant?

Desmond looked to Lucy, who only smiled. “Who are you?” Desmond asked plainly.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” the British person replied, somewhat more civilly. “I’m Shaun Hastings, and this is Rebecca Crane.”

Rebecca reached out to shake Desmond’s hand with a rather large grin. “Nice to meet you, Desmond,” she said smoothly.

She eyed Desmond’s face, but didn’t mention how terrible he must look. Nice. Desmond was about to respond before Hastings interrupted him.

“Right, well, it’s been lovely chatting. But if you don’t mind, Desmond, it’s best we get to work.” Hastings looked around the converted office and said in much quieter tones, “Time is precious. Doubly so these days.” With that, he went straight to what looked like his work area. It looked like the stereotypical conspiracy space, with papers pinned up and colored strings connecting things.

Rebecca took a step, bringing attention back to her and away from Hastings. Desmond glanced between her and Hastings. Ah. Partners, then, romantic or otherwise. The way she did that was too smooth to be anything else.

“We got everything set up and ready, Lucy,” Rebecca said, “Just say the word and we’ll get going.”

Lucy smiled at her, and pulled out the USB stick she’d taken from the Animus. “Here,” she said, handing it to Rebecca, “I brought you a present. A parting gift from Abstergo.”

Rebecca lit up like she had just been handed her birthday and Christmas gifts for the past ten years. “Whoa! The memory core? This is amazing!” She looked to Lucy and Desmond with a broad smile. “With their data, things are gonna go a lot faster!” As she turned and went to the Animus, Desmond heard her say, “I’ll get to work merging the code. We’ll need to see which pattern buffers, and the storage protocols need to connect with the assembly code…”

“She is cheerful,” Ezio said, watching Rebecca amusedly. “I like her.”

Desmond laughed quietly Rebecca was a breath of fresh air after being stuck in Abstergo for so long. She reminded him of Ziv, actually. But if Rebecca were a programmer like Desmond thought, she’d likely get along best with Seda.

Lucy looked to Desmond, still smiling. It seemed Rebecca was good for Lucy. She looked so  _ soft _ compared to in Abstergo. “It’ll take some time for her to merge the code on that.”

“Does this mean I can take a shower and sleep?” Desmond asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Lucy laughed lightly. “Here, the bath is this way.”

The shower was  _ wonderful. _ Everything was generic, but in a money-saving way than the ‘you are a prisoner’ kind of way. It did the job, and the hot water on his sore muscles was literally the best thing that had happened to Desmond in the past forty-eight hours.

“Don’t fall asleep in the shower,” Evie said, appearing outside the shower stall.

Desmond blinked awake, realizing he had, indeed, almost fallen in the shower. That would have been embarrassing. Though if he could just sit in the tub under the hot water for a couple more hours, Desmond wouldn’t even  _ care. _

“Come on,” Evie said, “If you’re going to sleep, sleep in a proper bed.”

Evie helped Desmond dry off and dress into his clothes. They were still the same old, and needed to be washed, but at least they were comfortable. He stumbled out of the bathroom, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets to hide the slight trembling. Evie kept him steady.

There were two bedrooms aside from the bed behind the partition. One was for Lucy and Rebecca, and the other for Desmond and Shaun. Desmond honestly didn’t care who he shared a room with, but he supposed Lucy might.

“Here, Desmond,” Lucy said, taking him to the small kitchenette. She handed him a sandwich. “You look ready to pass out, but you should definitely eat something first.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said, taking it and eating automatically. He was getting tired of sandwiches, even if Lucy had brought him more variation near the end. “...if you get the stuff, I can make some actual food,” Desmond offered.  _ Nonna _ and the other Aunties and Grandmothers made absolutely certain of that.

Lucy lit up. “Oh,  _ please. _ It’s been sandwiches and instant food and take-out for all of us.”

“Hopefully you’ll be a better cook than an Assassin,” Hastings said. Desmond turned to see him, drinking from a teacup, leaning on the doorframe. “Seriously. I saw the tapes of you from Abstergo. You didn’t even  _ try _ to escape.”

What the fuck. Desmond  _ stared _ at Hastings, waiting for him to realize how bad he sounded. Evie muttered some low curses next to him. She eyed Hastings, taking into consideration all the ways to make him  _ hurt _ without causing damage. It made Desmond feel better.

Hastings swallowed, blinking rapidly. Then he scoffed, dropping his teacup off in the sink and walking away.

Desmond watched him, glad of his departure, before sighing deeply and turning to Lucy. She blinked wide eyes at him, and he stared at her confusedly.

“What a dick,” he complained.

Lucy smiled a little, but something in her expression seemed off. “Finish your food, Desmond. You look way too tired to be up right now.”

“I am,” Desmond agreed.

Not ten minutes later, and Desmond climbed into bed. He  _ reached, _ and felt a couple of bodies land into bed with him. He didn’t even bother registering who of his other selves were there. Just past the door, he could hear Lucy talking with Rebecca and Hastings.

Desmond wasn’t safe. He was in a place he didn’t want to be, with people he wanted to avoid. But he was away from Abstergo, and with his other selves. And these people did not want to hurt him. He could afford a solid night’s rest.

He pressed closer to his other selves, sighed contentedly, and fell asleep.

0o0o0


	10. Chapter 10

Desmond slept soundly through the night. The bed was comfortable, he was relatively safe, and he had his other selves with him. It wasn’t the best situation possible, of course. That would be his apartment in New York, which right now he sorely missed. But it was definitely much better than the last week. And now that Desmond didn’t have the threat of being put into a coma on him, he didn’t let anything wake him up.

It helped that Malik and Kadar had forced Altair to go to bed. The minute he sat down, Altair about instantly fell asleep. So the eight of them slept in tandem, their minds connected, and a night’s worth of contact bled through them all. It wasn’t the solid week of sleep that Desmond felt he  _ still _ needed, but it was a solid ten hours worth of uninterrupted sleep. And it was  _ magnificent. _

It made him that much more ready to face an Assassin cell. His parents undoubtedly knew that he was there, and the apparent state he had been in when he arrived. But both of his parents were busy and important people, so it was unlikely that they would show up. Especially this close to Abstergo.

Though the eight of them thought the idea of separate, unconnected Assassin cells stupid overall, what with the extreme ease of contact available to them compared to previous times, they understood  _ why _ they were. Especially after the previous Mentor died.

Desmond sat up in bed, yawning, and rubbed at his eyes. Ugh. He certainly felt all the bumps and bruises he had gotten in the trunk. There were also the somewhat strained muscles from getting into fights after little to no movement in a week. Not to mention the general exhaustion overall. It wasn’t bad anymore, but he still felt it.

“Morning,” he yawned, listing to the side and slumping shoulder to shoulder with Altair.

He must have been especially tired if he hadn’t dragged himself out of bed earlier. Or Malik had Kadar sit on him. Either was likely, as they both happened before. Kadar especially was good incentive to  _ not move. _

His stomach grumbled lightly. Yeah, Desmond was hungry. Hopefully there was something to eat in the kitchenette. He stood up and stretched, sighing in relief as his joints popped. Altair yawned as well, and then disappeared back to Masyaf. Good luck to him.

“Oh, morning Desmond!” Rebecca greeted when he left the room. She had deep bags under her eyes, and there were a few empty energy drinks around her work station. “Wow, you slept like a rock.”

“I did,” Desmond agreed, heading towards the kitchenette. “I needed it.”

“Apparently! We tried waking you up a few times earlier, but you ignored us,” Rebecca said. She paused and then said, “You’re kind of terrifying when your exhausted.”

“How so?” Desmond asked, pausing in his walk to blink curiously at her. Yeah, he didn’t like being woken up, but he wasn’t scary. Was he?

“Well, you just brushed me and Lucy aside when we tried waking you up,” Rebecca said. That made sense, Desmond liked them and didn’t want to scare or hurt them. “But Shaun was more impatient I guess, so when he tried waking you up the second time, you  _ growled _ at him.”

“Growled?” Desmond asked amusedly.

Rebecca nodded. “I didn’t know humans could even  _ make _ that kind of noise. Then you said something in Spanish, I think? But it sounded very much like a threat, so we decided to let you wake up when you wanted to.”

“I don’t remember,” Desmond said honestly. Desmond wasn’t one for sleep talking, so it was probably one of the others. Evie, maybe. She was overprotective and would definitely threaten people to let him sleep.

“Well, you look less like death warmed over than yesterday, so I suppose the ten solid hours was worth it,” Rebecca said, nodding sagely.

“It was,” Desmond agreed, and went to grab himself some cereal, and stuck a bagel in the toaster. Kind of exactly what he had in Abstergo, but so much better because  _ Desmond _ was the one making it.

“Desmond!” Lucy said when she walked in several minutes later. Must have been doing a perimeter check. “You’re awake, finally.”

“Morning,” Desmond greeted, holding his bagel up in a salute. “Sleep well?”

Lucy blinked, and laughed. “Yeah, actually. You look much better.”

“I feel better,” Desmond said, “Where’s Hastings?”

Lucy looked oddly at him, but shrugged. “Shaun is on a grocery run. You spooked him earlier when you growled at him.”

“Man, I wish I could remember,” Desmond said.

“Probably better you don’t,” Lucy said amusedly, “So you don’t do that on command.”

“Damn, there goes my plans,” Desmond said, and snapped his fingers disappointedly.

It made Lucy laugh. He watched her; this freedom, away from Abstergo and Vidic was a good look on her. They had to start talking to her about pulling her away from the Templars. If anything, she deserved freedom away from people that made her stifle herself, regardless of where she ended up afterwards.

Desmond followed Lucy out into the main room, where the Animus was. Rebecca was sitting at the monitor, her laptop plugged in. It looked like she was  _ still _ working on it.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Desmond asked.

“I took a quick nap earlier,” Rebecca said, shrugging. “I was kind of caught up in the code, you know? But it’s done now, all ready to go whenever you are.”

Desmond sighed, and crossed his arms. “About that,” he said.

Rebecca looked up, and saw something in his expression. “Lucy didn’t tell you?”

“She tried, but I didn’t want to talk about it until I showered and slept,” Desmond said.

Rebecca grinned easily, though her expression was also awkward. “Yeah, no shit. You looked terrible when you arrived.”

Lucy sighed and crossed her arms too. “Right, it’s a discussion we need to have now that you’re rested. We’ll wait for Shaun to arrive first, though.”

Desmond snorted. “You sure? Whatever he says is likely to make me do the opposite, just to spite him.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on him,” Rebecca said, “He’s not as much of an ass as he likes to act. He’s just stressed. We all are.”

“If his first instinct is to be a condescending ass when stressed, it doesn’t say much about him,” Desmond pointed out, somewhat repeating what he had told Lucy about Vidic. “Emotional outbursts and anger, sure. Sarcasm, sure. Not how he’s been acting towards me.”

Rebecca sighed, an nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But he’s not so bad normally, either.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Desmond said, humming thoughtfully.

Maybe Hastings was like Malik, who wielded his words like another blade, and could be callous without meaning to sometimes. But until Hastings learned to apologize for what he said wrongly, like Malik had, Desmond would keep his reservations.

“Until then, you can help me set up the security system,” Lucy said.

She had grabbed several devices while Desmond and Rebecca were talking, roughly the size of Desmond’s hand. He recognized them as transmitters, meant to hide their electronic presence. These in particular were Assassin-make, and thus years ahead of whatever was on the market.

“Sure,” Desmond agreed.

He wouldn’t be getting into the Animus any time soon. At least not unless they could give him some  _ damn _ good reason to. But he wanted to talk with Rebecca about sending a message home, and try to get Lucy on his side. The least Desmond could do until he left was help set up their security.

It wasn’t that hard, all things considered. There was no rush, so Desmond didn’t mind taking things slow. He didn’t hide his skill, but he didn’t show off, either. He noticed that Lucy watched him, studying him, and figured she was deciding what his current abilities were.

“She said she was going to make you an Assassin,” Elise said, when Desmond reached one of the higher spots. She still looked stressed, but less  _ tired _ overall. “I guess that’s getting a baseline before you start training.”

“Lucy’s also a Templar plant, so she’s probably going to report it to Vidic and Abstergo too, even as she sends reports to my parents,” Desmond said, placing another system piece in place.

“She loves these people,” Elise said, watching Lucy, who kept a stern eye on Desmond, “She doesn’t want to hurt them, or hurt you. At this point, it’s best to ask  _ why _ she decided becoming a Templar was the best option for her.”

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed.

Hopefully they could provide a better option for Lucy. Though not  _ quite _ there yet, it was becoming obvious that the red in Lucy that marked her as an enemy was duty instead of personal feeling. Duty and obligation were often harder to shake than anything else, but Lucy had already turned before. And Desmond was almost certain that for all that she was a Templar, and believed in them, she’d do better  _ away _ from Abstergo. Not Templars, but Abstergo in general.

Good thing they had Elise. Desmond may not be an Assassin as the modern Order would see it, but he wasn’t a Templar, either.

“You’re pretty good at climbing,” Lucy commented when Desmond went back down to meet her.

“Yeah, I had to be at one of my previous jobs,” Desmond said, shrugging. “When they hire what they think is an undocumented immigrant, they’re not as strict about labor laws.”

“Where’d you work?” Lucy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Construction and maintenance for a couple of summers,” Desmond said. Around his self-made job as a courier and jack-of-all-illegal-trades, of course. “Let me tell you, you stop being afraid of heights  _ real _ fast when you’re paid to.”

Not that Desmond had been afraid of heights in the first place. None of them were. But there sure was…  _ something _ about being atop of a high rise, or a skyscraper, with little to no gear holding you in place. He supposed it was something like faith.

Lucy hummed thoughtfully. “You had a pretty extensive life away from the Farm, didn’t you?”

Desmond looked at her. “You curious for your sake, or for whatever reports your making?”

Lucy startled, obviously not expecting the blunt question. She did smile amusedly at him though, though her eyes were somewhat uneasy. “Can’t it be both?” she asked.

Desmond snorted. “Yeah, sure, but I don’t know if I want my parents knowing what I did. Not from a report at least.” Or Vidic. Desmond didn’t think Lucy would report  _ every _ little thing that didn’t have to do with her actual mission, but he didn’t dare say anything anyways.

Lucy laughed awkwardly. She bit her lip, and looked at Desmond from under her lashes. It was a thinking silence, and Desmond waited, watching her with his second sight. After several long moments, Lucy took a fortifying breath.

She glowed blue before she spoke. Truth, and well-meaning. Desmond relaxed slightly. “It’s just- I was born into the Order, too. I was raised in a city, though, with a few other kids under the guise of foster care.”

“Because the government doesn’t pay as much attention as they should,” Desmond said in realization. The foster care system had its upsides, and overall did good work. But the kids that slipped through the cracks was- a lot. A perfect cover for Assassins, who needed to hide from governments and Abstergo.

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. It made things both easier and harder. We didn’t have physical training like the Farm did, not anything non-recreational at least, but we did have more social conditioning. An Assassin from the Farm could run circles around me, but Assassins raised in the cities were  _ so _ much better at infiltration.”

“Oh yeah,” Desmond agreed wryly. “I spent two years in Chicago after I left, and let me tell you, that was a culture shock and a half.” If he hadn’t had his other selves to fall back on, especially Elise who lived in lively old Paris, Desmond might have gone slightly insane.

Lucy laughed softly. “Oh, I definitely saw it. I met a couple of people from the Farm who came for missions. They handled it well, I thought, but they definitely were pretty wide-eyed at everything.”

Desmond laughed with her. “So, we both were born into the Order,” he said, bringing them back to Lucy’s original point.

Lucy sighed. “I was just- I grew up with the Order, yes, but I also grew up in a city. I was… aware, of everything. It never occured for me to  _ leave _ or to do literally anything other than what was expected of me. And you- you left and changed and did what sounded like  _ so many _ different things. Even if it were just for survival it was-” Lucy trailed off and bit her lip again.

Desmond stared at her, surprised by the burst of emotion. He softened his expression as he took it all in. “You’re still doing what’s expected of you, aren’t you?” he asked.

Assassin, Templar, whatever. Lucy was good at what she did, but she still followed  _ orders. _ Maybe she had the independence to do it on her own terms, but those were still on someone else's dime.

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed softly, looking away. “I am.”

“Well,” Desmond said, deciding. Now he felt like helping her to help her, instead of just to get her on his side. Yeah, he liked her and would like to keep her around, but if in the process of helping her he got her  _ away... _ “Would you like to leave?”

Lucy snorted. “Not possible, Desmond.”

“I left,” Desmond pointed out.

“And you got kidnapped, eventually,” Lucy said, “You stayed out of it for an impressively long time, I’ll admit, but you still got  _ caught. _ ”

“I did, didn’t I?” Desmond mused, looking to the side. Neither a denial or an affirmation either way. He didn’t indicate if he had been caught by accident or on purpose. Contextually, it had been sheer bad luck on his part, or good luck on Abstergo’s.

But Lucy was very well trained, so she caught the  _ other _ implication immediately. She looked sharply at him, wary and suspicious of what he meant, but still kept her face smooth. Honestly, being a city-raised Assassin explained a lot about her. Desmond would have fallen immediately for her ploys if he didn’t have his second sight, or the others to help him.

“Still didn't answer me though,” Desmond said, looking back at her. “Do you want to leave? The whole thing, Assassins, and Templars, and the war.”

Lucy paused. “...I don’t know. I never really thought about it. It’s kind of- a lot.”

“Trust me, I know,” Desmond said, smiling assuringly at her. “I left when I was sixteen, but it wasn’t just a snap decision. It was a lot of things over a couple of years. I didn’t just make it without thinking.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t have stayed hidden for so long if you hadn’t,” Lucy said.

“Nope,” Desmond agreed. He studied her, and watched her start to gain a golden  _ mission important _ glow around her edges. Seems his decision was made already. “If you make a decision either way, tell me. I can point you in the right direction.”

Lucy looked at him, expression blank. Still, Desmond could almost  _ see _ her thoughts whirling, like Isra had taught them to look for. He waited patiently, and after a long moment, Lucy let out the breath she was holding. It was a long, expansive sigh, and Lucy smiled wryly at him. Her red sparked slightly, but it dimmed in the end; she still held her loyalty, but now that she was thinking of something else, it wasn’t tethered as tightly.

“Sure, I’ll do that,” Lucy said.

Desmond grinned at her. Yeah, he was trying to get her to turn coat  _ again, _ but he felt like had Lucy’s best interest at heart compared to literally anyone else.

“So, when’s Hastings coming back? We might as well have this conversation while I still feel like having it at all,” Desmond said.

“He should be on his way back by now,” Lucy said, leading them back to the main room. “I sent him a bit earlier than normal, since you said you would cook for us if we had proper groceries. He even went willingly when I mentioned it was that or take out again.”

“Wow, you guys have been slumming it, haven’t you?” Desmond asked.

Lucy grimaced theatrically. “You have no idea.”

“Well, you’ve earned my pity points,” Desmond said.

“What pity points?” Rebecca asked, blinking at them, having taken her headphones off when she noticed them arriving.

“The ones where I feed you recipes my  _ Nonna _ taught me,” Desmond said.

Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Grandma recipes? You know Grandma recipes? And you’re going to cook for us? Oh my god Desmond I love you.”

“Just don’t propose, I’ve already got half a dozen back in New York I still have to reply to,” Desmond said.

“Wait, you have a grandmother?” Lucy asked.

“Not biologically, but I’ve got several old ladies who decided I was too scrawny and adopted me on the spot,” Desmond said, shrugging. And he  _ was _ scrawny before he filled out. Now, he was still pretty thin comparatively, but he wasn’t skin and bones anymore.

“Wait, people have actually proposed to you?” Rebecca asked, looking utterly delighted at the prospect.

“...they were mostly joke proposals,” Desmond said. Mostly by Tristan, who lovingly proposed to everyone who did something nice for her.

“That means there were some  _ serious _ ones,” Rebecca said, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Come on, tell me-”

“What’s this, you’re actually up now?” Hastings called from the open door. He carried several bags of what looked like groceries. “I’ll have you know, we’ve spent all of our food funds for the next couple of weeks, so I hope you’re happy.”

“Well,  _ you _ should be considering I’m cooking for you too,” Desmond said, throwing a smirk at Rebecca. She looked exaggeratedly outraged at the cut off. Yeah, Desmond liked her. “Besides, I’m used to making food stretch. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Hastings eyed him, as if considering how serious Desmond was. “Well, help me with the groceries then, I’m not holding them for forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes. He still grabbed the bags Hastings had in one hand. So, he wasn’t as weak as his sweater-vest would proclaim. Likely still needed some conditioning, but he wasn’t hopeless.

It didn’t take them long to put all the groceries away. It was all generic stuff, covered in Italian print. They were outside of Rome, but they couldn’t be  _ too _ far away if they still had access to a decent grocery store. Desmond hummed in thought as he registered what, exactly, he now had access to, other than the generic sandwich ingredients and frozen meals.

The fresh fruits and veggies would be the first to be used up, as well as the meat and eggs. The spices, though, were the most important. They were likely what most of the food budget went to, but they would last a while. Mostly. Definitely until they could safely start spending food money again. There was a block of cheese, and some cream, which went into the refrigerator. There were frozen veggies, as well as some bulk meat that could be separated into individual portions. There was somehow a small bag of flour, which was useful. Couldn’t make a proper bread without an oven, but it definitely expanded how many recipes Desmond could make…

“I think Hastings just learned you hadn’t agreed to helping them,” Ezio commented, having been helping him check his new food inventory. Ezio was the one with the least amount to do right at that moment; Elise was working with Arno. She’d call if she needed help.

Desmond nodded, having heard the yell. He heard Hastings stomp into the kitchenette where he had been putting everything away.

Well, nearly everything. He set the spices in one of the grocery bags, to be carried out as needed. Strangely, this was something he actually inherited from his mother; if you weren’t leaving with the  _ absolute  _ bare necessities, food preparation and items related to it were considered a necessity. Then it was further drilled into him by Nonna, and his Aunties, and later by his captains who had their own feelings about homemade food.

Anyways, food was important.

“Why are you even here, Miles?” Hastings scowled heavily at him, arms crossed.

Desmond raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if Hastings realized that crossed arms for Assassins was actually a  _ non-threatening _ gesture. “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I was kidnapped, and then later reverse-kidnapped and brought here in the trunk of a car? I could have sworn that happened, but who knows, Lucy did tell me a side-effect of using the Animus is hallucinations.”

Hastings blinked in surprise at Desmond’s rebuttal. Huh. With Rebecca around, he’d have thought Hastings was used to being countered. Then again, Rebecca seemed like an enabler of sorts, who’d cheerfully point Hastings in the direction she wanted verbally eviscerated. She definitely had that deviousness to her.

“Hm. If he’s like Malik, then he needs an Altair to keep him in line,” Ezio commented, watching Hastings. “Though if he didn’t have one growing up, that explains why he doesn’t apologize.”

“I refuse,” Desmond told Ezio bluntly. “You’re implying something there, and let me tell you right now. I. Refuse.”

“Just pointing out the possibility,” Ezio said amusedly. “Besides, poor Malik was pulling double duty for you too.”

“Altair and I  _ look _ the same, we don’t have the same personality,” Desmond said flatly, “If Malik was pulling double duty for  _ anyone, _ it’d be Aveline.”

“Not really, Aveline is more polite than Altair,” Ezio said, “and everyone else knows better than to aggravate Malik. You don’t.”

“I don’t aggravate him!” Desmond said hotly. He didn’t! It was just that the universe hated him, and the people that knew about them had a hard time telling Desmond and Altair apart at the first glance. Which made  _ no _ sense, honestly!

“Not on purpose, no,” Ezio said, smiling broadly. “So make friends with Shaun Hastings and you won’t have to make Malik angry any more.”

“I hate you,” Desmond said flatly.

He eyed Ezio, wondering if he could get away with hurting him without bothering Elise. Jun had found a way, but she had resolutely chosen not to tell anyone else. It’d be tricky, but Desmond was sure he could do something-

“Are you even listening to me?” Hastings demanded, cutting their argument off.

Desmond and Ezio turned to him, startled. Ah. It seemed that they had ignored him Not on purpose, though, they had gotten used to holding separate conversations. Desmond hadn’t been speaking out loud, thankfully.

“Uh, no, sorry,” Desmond said, “What did you say?”

Hastings stared at him, incredulous and indignant. And- for some reason, it also looked like worry. The eight of them did look like they were staring off into the distance when they didn’t speak to each other out loud. It was possible they were worried that Desmond was already losing his mind. Though Desmond had no idea why  _ Hastings _ cared.

“Someone is allowed to worry for your well being and still dislike you,” Ezio pointed out.

“Never mind,” Hastings said, scowling. “But if you’re done, we may as well have that conversation Lucy said we needed to have.”

“Sure,” Desmond said. “That sounds like it’ll be loads of fun.”

Hastings snorted, and then looked mildly surprised at himself. Wow. Hastings was determined to not like Desmond at all, wasn’t he?

“I think I’m gonna take it as a challenge if he keeps this up,” Desmond told Ezio.

“See, you do need a Malik,” Ezio said cheerfully. “Keeps you on your toes!”

“I’m gonna stab you,” Desmond said flatly.

“You can try,” Ezio replied easily.

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna  _ try.” _

“Miles, are you coming or not?” Hastings asked irritably.

Desmond turned to him, ignoring Ezio. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way. But seriously, loads of fun.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” Hastings said, and left the kitchenette.

“You think I can fit through the window?” Desmond asked, eyeing the kitchen window that sat above the sink. It was pretty small, all things told, but Desmond was relatively skinny. He’d have to shimmy a bit, and make sure to be quiet, but he could do it.

“Yes, but it won’t be easy. Especially if they’re waiting for you and would come to check on you,” Ezio said, “You’d best go and have that super fun conversation you need to have.”

“Ugh,” Desmond groaned, and rubbed his face. Ezio patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, both comforting and teasing all at once. Asshole. “Let’s go face the music.”

0o0o0


	11. Chapter 11

Desmond carefully did not fidget as he sat in a loose circle with Lucy, Rebecca, and Hastings. He was nervous, of course, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was by showing it. He had long since learned how to hide his nerves. That didn’t mean that his other selves didn’t have the full view of how close he was to panicking.

“Calm down,” Elise said, watching them all. Despite the situation, she looked at Desmond amusedly. “They aren’t unreasonable people.”

“They just had some expectations we need to clarify,” Evie agreed. “Though it might not endear you to them, it’s best we’re all on the same page.”

They lent Desmond their strength, even if they still felt the edge of exhaustion. One night’s sleep wasn’t enough to recover properly from all that had happened. But still, Desmond leaned into that shared strength, buoying up above the nerves. Even Altair, busy as he was, shared his strength, just as Desmond hadn’t stopped sharing his with him.

“We aren’t that scary, are we?” Rebecca asked amusedly, watching him with bright eyes.

He was watching for it, so Desmond  _ saw _ her looking at them all. It was the way that those trained in intelligence looked at people. He wondered what she saw, and decided that talking with her would be one of his top priorities while he was here.

“Depends, I guess,” Desmond said dubiously.

No wonder they were a cell. Man, he’d never been so glad for the training Isra gave them. These were the so-called  _ soft _ Assassins, whose skills lied not in the physical but in the mental. Probably why they were assigned to him, if his parents saw the very minimal trail he had purposefully left behind.

And even if Desmond was overestimating them, that was better than the alternative. He’d rather not be taken off guard.

“Calm down,” Elise repeated, “They’re not enemies. They’ll notice if you’re tense instead of just apprehensive.”

Desmond took a breath, and rubbed at his arm. “Sorry. It’s just- I’ve been avoiding Assassins and Templars for almost a decade. I’m not happy to be brought back into it.” At least not like this. He had plans for dealing with Abstergo. His plans for dealing with Assassins were still bare bones, and it left him off kilter. Especially knowing that his parents had some involvement.

“How’d you get caught, anyways?” Rebecca asked curiously. He eyed her and- yes, that was honest curiosity.

“I got a motorcycle license,” Desmond said glumly.

And it was _worth_ _it,_ he’d hold onto that forever. Ziv would have taken his motorcycle to keep it safe, and he trusted him with it. Which was why he felt confident enough to go to the DMV in the first place.

“Fingerprints and a picture,” Lucy said, snapping her fingers. “Makes sense.”

“You expected you might get caught, and did it anyway?” Hastings asked suspiciously.

Desmond looked to him. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Frankly, he and his other selves could be considered adrenaline junkies. Even Elise, as much as she exaggeratedly despaired at being connected to  _ Assassins _ like she was. They were all a bit screwed up, especially considering that a good fight calmed them down. And a motorcycle was one of the best feelings. As close to flying as Desmond could get without going skydiving.

Though it was also frankly somewhat terrifying that Abstergo did have fingers in every single corporate and industry meat pie there was. Not surprising, not after so many years looking for it, but still terrifying.

Lucy hummed in thought, and they turned to her. She looked serious and contemplative, and Desmond sighed mentally. Looks like they were getting down to business, then. Best to get this conversation out of the way.

“Best take the lead,” Evie said, “It’s three against what they think is only one.”

“Well, this is awkward,” Desmond muttered, and leaned into Elise, who sat next to him and would provide some support if needed. The best lies were absolute truths, after all, and Elise had some rather separate truths compared to Desmond. “So, Lucy told me last night when we arrived that you didn’t rescue me out of the goodness of your hearts.”

Which Desmond  _ understood. _ The Order of Assassins was weak at the moment, especially in comparison to Abstergo. It’d be suicide to mount an actual attack on the building, even for the child of their Mentor, which was why he had immediately dismissed what Vidic and Lucy had let him hear.

If people even  _ knew  _ of his existence at all, anyways; the previous Mentor had been a near mythical figure, who very few had even  _ met. _ Desmond had no reason to believe that it’d change for his father.

“Well, not  _ only,” _ Rebecca protested mildly. Hastings snorted, and crossed his arms irritably.

Desmond rolled his eyes. He liked Rebecca. It might be her job, but she kept the tension relatively low. “Not denying that you’re planning on using me for something.  _ What, _ I don’t actually know.”

It had to do with him learning how to fight and be an Assassin. Or there was information that they believed would help in the long run, hiding in Desmond’s genetics. Who knew, but it couldn’t be  _ good, _ exactly, if they were trusting the Bleeding Effect to work like they wanted it to.

Honestly, after seeing what Sixteen left, Desmond wasn’t willing to do any of that on sheer principle. He might have some safety nets in the form of seven other selves, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t affected. Sleep helped, but Desmond still had trouble with speaking the right language. And that was with only a week; he  _ really _ didn’t want to know how he’d be in however long they planned on having him in the Animus.

“It has to be information,” Elise said, “Physical skills are one thing- there are probably Assassins here that are plenty strong fighters. But with all that we have planned, and already knowing that you are descended from Altair and Ezio…” she trailed off, then looked to them meaningfully.

“And the likelihood of you being descended from the rest of us,” Evie added. She raised an eyebrow at him. “One is chance, two is coincidence, as they say. We don’t know either way yet, but we can’t say that you  _ aren’t.” _

“Like I said, we need your help,” Lucy said, “The Assassins are losing this war. We do what we can, but more and more of us are dying.”

Desmond eyed her. “Why do you need my help, though? I’m just one guy.” That had access to seven other people with incredible skills of their own, but these people really didn’t need to know that.

“Yes, yes you are,” Hastings said.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “But you have the genetics that lead to some of the greatest Assassins we have records on. With the Animus, that amounts to having access to the skills and knowledge of them all.”

“It’s proven that you can live through months in a much shorter amount of time,” Hastings said, “With you living through a summer within a week.”

“So even though you’ve been out of practice for nearly a decade, we can bring you up to speed in a much shorter amount of time,” Lucy said.

“That explains why you chose me,” Desmond said, feeling a bit queasy at the idea of just living other people’s lives. Altair was bad enough, and he  _ knew _ him. “But none of that explained why you  _ need _ me. I am still only one person.”

“Genetics,” Rebecca said, “There’s more to it than just physical traits and stuff. You inherit more. And since you’re descended from a lot of incredibly important Assassins, as was explained by your parents, you’re sort of the genetic jackpot. Like, I don’t think I can properly express how much of one.”

Elise clicked her tongue. “True. It’s something that I’ve noticed as a trend as I looked into who the Templars of my time  _ know _ are Assassins. Those who are descended from Assassins tend to become Assassins themselves, even if it they didn’t know they were in the first place. And if not part of the Order itself, then following the tenants and similar ideals of it anyways.”

“I might be an anomaly, but the concubines did not keep track of their relations but to make sure that we did not have children with our siblings and other close relations,” Jun pointed out, “It may be a possibility that I have an ancestor that was an Assassin.”

“And we do know that those with Eagle Vision tend to the Assassins as well,” Ezio said.

“So… you need me because I’m some kind of potential super Assassin?” Desmond asked incredulously. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”

Evie giggled quietly. “I’m imagining you wearing a bright red superhero cape. Like Superman.”

“With the Assassin insignia printed both on your chest and on the cape,” Aveline added.

That set off the others into soft laughter of their own, and Desmond valiantly refrained. It took effort though, and he mentally shoved at Evie for it. He was trying to have a serious conversation here, thank you!

Lucy winced at the description, but nodded. “You have potential that likely no one else has whatsoever. If we get you trained up, what you can do would outstrip literally anyone and anything we have right now.”

Desmond stared. “...Wow,” he said flatly.

Because literally,  _ what the fuck. _ Not about his skill or potential skill. Desmond had been training for his entire life, and he knew what he could and could not do. He regularly worked with six other brilliant Assassins as well, as well as one of the best Templars in the business. But the fact that for some reason, they had decided that if they had Desmond, they could somehow win this eternal war?

“You’re the Chosen One, Desmond,” Elise said flatly.

“...Superhero,” Aveline whispered, and set them off on another round of laughter. Desmond despaired of them, he really did. But he really couldn’t blame them for it. He’d be laughing too if it weren’t about his life.

“Yeah, I know, it’s really stupid when you say it like that,” Rebecca agreed cheerfully. “Not going to lie, part of the reason I decided to volunteer was because it sounded like fun. Always wanted to be part of a real life superhero team.”

Desmond snorted. Rebecca was good, but she honestly cared about cheering them up. It was remarkably like being with his captains, actually. “Not much of a superhero team if your hero wants nothing to do with the Animus.”

“I don’t know, the reluctant hero is a classic trope,” Rebecca pointed out, “Not going to force you into anything, that way lies Templar ideology, but you have to admit. Still hitting those tropes point for point.”

“Will you two come back to the point? We are rather trying to discuss saving people’s lives, here,” Hastings said irritably.

“Mine not included?” Desmond asked easily. Hastings made a face, but relented. “Not really helping your case here. Do any of you even know what the Animus  _ does _ to a person?”

Lucy’s lips thinned, and she shifted guiltily. “The Bleeding Effect.”

“Yeah, you also said something about using that to our advantage to teach me skills,” Desmond said. He didn’t cross his arms; other than Lucy, he wasn’t even certain that Rebecca or Hastings even  _ knew _ that was an Assassin gesture meaning ‘no threat’. “You weren’t going to bring up the fact that I’d slowly go insane? I’m still recovering from working through Altair’s memories, and you want me to do  _ more?” _

“I did start making contingency plans, as well as smoothing out a lot of the issues that the Animus you were in had,” Rebecca said, eyes serious. “We can’t get rid of the Bleeding Effect in its entirety, the process is too involved in the memories itself. But there are definitely ways to mitigate the process.”

“Would it be worth it, though?” Desmond asked. “I still have trouble remembering to speak English, and the memories I lived through are much clearer than some of my own. Even factoring in the natural degradation of memories over time, that’s not good.”

Lucy and Hastings both watched him with wide, surprised eyes, having done so since he started listing off problems. He stared at them, confused, even as he waited for Rebecca’s answer. These were pretty obvious problems, did they  _ really _ not think it through? No, it had to be something else, these people were too smart to not have figured it out.

Unless it was one of those things where the answer was so obvious they ignored it.

Was Rebecca the only one here with common sense? Hopefully not. Desmond would have to bring them into his fold just to make sure they didn’t kill themselves in the long run. And since that would include revealing his secrets, and he’d really rather not. Not without spending some more time with them to get a better picture of their allegiances.

He refused to risk his people on those that might be loyal enough to his parents or others.

Rebecca hummed in thought, and tapped out a beat on her thigh. She took the question seriously, and was coming up with an answer that didn’t boil down to just ‘trust me’. It made Desmond like her that much more.

“Just as stated, likely not,” Rebecca admitted, “But we are continuously upgrading the Animus to be smoother and cause less of a problem. There’s also the idea that you learn what you  _ need _ to learn and no more. Instead of forcing you to relive the memories to reach something we want, we just send you in to where the important memory is.”

“And if it’s locked?” Desmond asked. “That’s why I had to live through Altair’s memories at all.” Which was still confusing, unless the Apple did something. Which was likely, and still terrifying to think about.

Rebecca sighed. “Then we move on, and find a memory that works. Like I said, you’re a genetic jackpot. Even if the ideal memory isn’t available, there’s so many different possibilities that there should be no reason to do what happened with Altair.”

Desmond leaned back, thinking about it. That was a good compromise, for all that he still didn’t want to. “Then,” he said slowly, “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, having recovered enough to return to the conversation.

“I got why you chose me,” Desmond said, looking to her, “But that doesn’t translate well to how you’re going to use me. You’re looking to train me to become a sharp weapon, aimed at your enemies. Sure, I understand, whatever. But what do you  _ want _ me to do? How am I going to be useful? What can I do, trained well, do that you or anyone else can’t do? What potential skills are you looking for that would be helpful? Which information?”

Hastings still looked shocked. For what reason, Desmond had no idea. Rebecca at least, seemed amused, even as she reached out and poked him in the shoulder. Hastings quickly regained his composure, but Desmond could still  _ see _ the surprise.

“They likely thought you stupid,” Elise said, snorting. “After all, you’re just a bartender who got caught getting a license.”

“...does no one know what skills a bartender even  _ needs, _ even at the shitty bars?” Desmond asked his other selves privately, deciding not to make a point of even hiding for nearly a decade at  _ all. _ “Like, even disregarding literally  _ everything _ else that I’ve been doing.”

“It’s a customer service position where you interact with people to make money,” Evie said, “Of course they don’t.”

The others all spent time training at the bar with Desmond, and were quite aware of what he had to  _ know _ to get to the position he did. Even if part of the reason they hired him was for his looks, to be considered and  _ kept _ in the position, he had to learn the trade. Learning how to flair bartend was actually the easiest part of the job, followed by memorizing the drinks themselves. It was actually everything that they learned with Isra that kept him afloat in those early days as he settled into his new profession.

“Assassins. You’d think they know better,” Elise muttered.

“Come now,” Ezio said, nudging her in the shoulder, “We know that the Order is not what it once was and what it could be. It’s why Desmond left.”

Lucy bit her lip, thinking hard. Rebecca rolled her eyes and took the lead again. “We honestly have no idea,” she admitted, “What our job is, is to get you trained. We don’t know what skills you can learn, or what you’ll be good at, or even a potential specialty. As we figure that out, then what we want you to do will be decided on.”

“And probably not by you,” Desmond said, and rubbed at his arm. He had a very good idea who would be making  _ that _ decision. “By-”

“By your father, yes,” Lucy said. “He  _ is  _ the current Mentor.”

“And I’m his only child,” Desmond said, sighing.

It had been a thing, he remembered, though one they tried not to tell him about. And it was one of the few things they did as his  _ parents _ instead of as his trainers. His mother had a difficult pregnancy with him and hadn’t been able to get pregnant again. He had kept an ear out for any information otherwise, but nothing. It was a shame. He’d have liked to be an older brother.

“Please tell me that either of my parents are coming here,” Desmond asked plainly. “Sure, I know you’re giving at least my dad reports about me. Whatever, it’s your job. But I really don’t want to meet them.”

“What, are you scared?” Hastings asked meanly, trying to get some control back in this particular situation. He still looked off kilter, so Desmond didn’t hold it against him. Much.

“Not really,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes, “Except that I  _ really _ don’t want to see them.”

For reasons that were, frankly, none of their business. His other selves knew, but part of Desmond wasn’t even sure if he’d have told  _ them _ if they literally weren’t there with him. Like hell he was bringing any of it up with these people.

The only other one that had any kind of idea whatsoever what his childhood was like was Nonna, and Desmond didn’t actually tell her anything.

Elise pressed firmly into his shoulder, aware of where his thoughts were going. Desmond took a deep breath and pulled his train of thought away from that direction.

“No, it’s fine,” Lucy said, “William has made no mention of visiting.”

Desmond sighed in relief, uncaring that the others saw. He  _ wasn’t _ scared of his parents, but there was that pit of nausea in his gut at the eventual meeting. Because he held no illusions that he would see them again, now that they knew where he was.

Desmond turned to the Animus, where the chair still sat in place of honor. It did look like an incredibly comfortable chair, for all the devices on it that told him its true purpose.

“What are you guys actually doing?” Desmond asked.

“Hm?” Rebecca asked curiously.

“Your actual jobs. I’m going to sit doing nothing in a chair, but what about you? What are you doing?” Desmond repeated.

This was either Hastings secondary job or he had a secondary job to this, if the bulletin board was any indication. Rebecca looked to be in charge of the actual Animus. And Lucy was the team leader, apparently.

Damn, but Desmond really needed to focus on her. Having their team leader be an enemy was… really not good. Like at all.

“Well, I’m in charge of contact with the outside world, and keeping both us and other teams informed of the situation,” Lucy said, “With some additional monitoring of the Animus itself.”

Desmond refrained from wincing; wow, and no one would question her about it, either.

“I’m in charge of Baby here,” Rebecca said, patting a trailing cable from the Animus. “We’re all pretty awesome with computers, but I’m the one dealing with the main programming regarding the Animus. Much of the upgrades you see are mine.”

“Nice chair,” Desmond said, because it was. He’d have to ask where she got it, because he’d like one without the Animus hooked up to it.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said, pleased.

“I’m the historian,” Hastings said, “In charge of all the information and data that you’d be seeing in the Animus. As a hacker and researcher, I’m also a team handler for several cells out in the field, sending them information required for their missions.”

“He’s also a bit of a conspiracy freak,” Rebecca added cheerfully, “The conspiracy board was definitely an aesthetic choice.”

“Shut up, Rebecca,” Hastings said automatically, frowning dramatically at her. Rebecca smiled in response with the ease of a well-worn interaction. Definitely partners.

Desmond hummed thoughtfully. That explained why he seemed the most rushed and incensed about potential delays. It also might explain the stress, though Desmond wasn’t certain if that was just a facet of Hasting’s  _ lovely  _ personality.

“Who would be in charge of evaluating me?” he asked. Because what was the point of teaching him anything if no one made certain he was being taught correctly?

“I would,” Lucy said.

Desmond made a face at her. She was a good fighter, but she could be great with some more effort. “And I guess my dad will be told,” he sighed.

Lucy winced. Probably at his tone, but also probably because Lucy knew his dad well enough. Especially since his dad was most likely the one to send her on her undercover mission in the first place. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s your job, no worries,” Desmond said, shrugging. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Elise nudged him again. “What’s the schedule looking like?” he asked.

“Schedule?” Lucy repeated.

“Yeah. When we were in Abstergo, I’d go literally all day,” Desmond said. He frowned at them, “That’s not happening here.”

Oh, God, was he actually thinking about doing this?

“It is a good source of information,” Elise pointed out, though she also sounded uneasy. None of them had come out of the Animus unscathed by the end. “And they definitely aren’t trying to run you into the ground for the sake of information like Vidic was.”

“It’s also likely that with Rebecca’s upgrades, we might not be as strained keeping even like before,” Evie said. “We may even be able to stop going in with you at all.”

“Taking where we are, what we want you to learn, and how we need to stay hidden,” Lucy trailed off, and bit her lip, thinking it over. “I’d say, we’d treat it like a regular 8-5 work day. Lunch and breaks included.”

Desmond hummed. That was… honestly better than he had expected. More than he wanted, definitely, but at least he wouldn’t be kept in only to be taken out for a singular mid-day meal. Best case ever would be not to go into the Animus at all, but…

“It’s not how we wanted to do this at all,” Ezio said, “But we can’t deny that this is an opening we’d be fools not to take.”

“Especially with you captains and allies aware of where you are and what you’d be doing,” Elise added.

“And the potential that Rebecca holds,” Evie added, watching said person. “Even when we first met her, she was someone we wanted to talk with.”

“But we also need to stay to help Lucy,” Elise said.

That they did. And it seemed that working with them, with the Animus, was the easiest way to stay there without arousing suspicion. He’d have to be careful, of course, but it should be easier. Desmond didn’t  _ trust _ these people, but they weren’t enemies. They had the potential to be friends, and allies. And he already liked Lucy and Rebecca.

“Even if we choose to leave, we want to send a message to the others before we do so, if only to leave the country safely,” Ezio said. “Best way to to that is to use the Hephaestus Network to send an email out.”

“Okay,” Desmond breathed out. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He really didn’t want to, but he was invested. Lucy, especially, who had the golden glow of mission importance even as he still saw her glow red. Rebecca, who looked to be a true ally, and a good friend. And even Hastings, who needed to learn how to apologize, but cared deeply enough to lose sleep over his teams.

Lucy smiled relievedly, and Rebecca beamed at him. Hastings let out a huff, but the line of his shoulders relaxed. Huh.

“If they are here, they are placing much of themselves on the line for this,” Elise pointed out.

“Thank you, Desmond,” Lucy said. “We’ll do our best by you.”

“I’ll set up the Animus- we can calibrate it easily, with you here and willing,” Rebecca said, and went to do just that.

Desmond took a breath. Well, then. He really was doing this. At least he had his other selves to help him keep an even keel.

0o0o0


	12. Chapter 12

“Okay,” Rebecca started, fiddling with the monitor attached to the Animus. “Here we go. Baby is up and running and ready to go.”

“Baby?” Desmond repeated amusedly. “Do you mean the Animus?”

Rebecca grinned at him. “I prefer the Animus two point oh, thank you. Twice as good as anything you’d find in Abstergo.”

“Really?” Desmond asked, watching her. She  _ believed _ that, truly. Not that he had any reason to doubt her, but...

“Of course,” Rebecca said, “Abstergo may have deeper pockets, and Templars, but they’re getting too used to their power. They’ve got no ambition, no competitive edge. So even if they have all the money in the world to work on their Animus project, I can do, and am, literally better at it than they are on a small fraction of the budget.”

“Huh,” Desmond said, eyeing her and the machine with new eyes. That did explain why this Animus looked more inviting in general. And why what had taken a room’s worth of equipment only needed half of it here.

“I really do like her,” Ezio said, leaning over Rebecca as she worked. “Is it strange that she reminds me of Claudia?”

“Less violent and more socially rambunctious, but yeah, she does,” Elise agreed from where she stood by Lucy, keeping an eye on what she was doing.

“Utterly terrifying in the absolutely  _ best _ way, you mean,” Ezio said gleefully. “We haven’t had reason to see it, she’s more focused on keeping tensions down right now, but oh, she’d be amazing.”

“Hm. I would’ve said she was more like Petruccio,” Jun mused, “But Rebecca looks like she’d cheerfully steamroll right over anyone in her path, so.”

“So, Claudia,” Ezio agreed, nodding. “Though I don’t think Rebecca would be as happy running a city-state as my sister.”

“How did you get into computers, anyways?” Desmond asked curiously, ignoring the byplay.

Rebecca grinned at him. “I broke my leg and couldn’t do anything I normally would but work on computers. Turns out I’m good at it.” There was more to  _ that _ story, but their level of friendship was nowhere near high enough for that particular backstory. Tragic or not, really.

“Huh. Cool,” Desmond said.

He wondered what she did prior that held her attention so fully, but it had to be something thrilling. Anyone who cheerfully admitted to joining this kind of cell just because it’d be like working with a superhero team had to be  _ some _ sort of thrill seeker. All Assassins tended to be.

“Speaking of,” Desmond said carefully, eyeing Lucy and Hastings. They were doing their own thing. He wouldn’t delude himself into thinking that they weren’t keeping  _ some _ sort of attention on him, but they shouldn’t hear him from this distance. “I want to send a message out to some friends of mine back in New York.”

Rebecca frowned thoughtfully at him, standing straighter. “Desmond-”

“Nothing incriminating, promise,” Desmond assured. They knew everything they needed to, anyways. “I just want to let them know that I’m not dead, and maybe to water the plants.”

Because he did have some plants in his apartment that he was rather fond of. They were green, and living, and they brightened up the place. One of the things he missed most about the Farm was the nature and the small farms they had. It was isolating, sure, but it was also peaceful.

“Plants, really?” Rebecca asked, both eyebrows raised. Still, the look in her eyes was  _ intrigued, _ and Desmond knew he caught her attention. But Rebecca was a good person, so she thought about his request seriously. “Yeah, I can do that. We can set you up with an account in the Hephaestus Network, which is the Assassin email system. We already had the beginnings of one started for when you got here, it shouldn’t take too much work to make it active.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said. “Nonna especially needs to know I’m okay. I’m not saying that she’d take down Abstergo all by herself, but I’m not saying she  _ wouldn't, _ either.”

Baba, especially,  _ really _ needed to know. She wouldn’t do anything unless he  _ needed _ the help, but Desmond emphatically did not want it to reach that point. His captains were bad enough.

“Not a problem,” Rebecca said, grinning broadly at him. “I can work on it while we calibrate you in the Animus. It really isn’t that hard, honestly.”

Desmond smiled at her thankfully. He had expected her help, but it wasn’t the same as getting confirmation. “So, what do I do here anyways?”

“Just sit down and get comfortable,” Rebecca said, motioning to the chair. “I’ll hit you up with an IV, settle the scanners around your head, and you’ll be good to go.”

“An IV?” Desmond asked, looking at the cord that hung along the monitor that doubled as an arm rest.

“Psh, not much different than that needle that the table Animus had,” Rebecca said, waving her hand dismissively. “It gives me a more accurate reading of your vitals, is all. I decided to put it a further distance away from the actual scanner, for better control.”

Desmond eyed the chair again. “Okay,” he said after a long moment. He wasn’t scared of needles, in theory, but he  _ knew _ how many different substances that existed, and many of them were, frankly, terrifying. “I’m going to trust you, Rebecca.”

“Nah, I get you,” Rebecca said, “Thanks, though.”

Desmond climbed into the chair, and hummed appreciatively. Wow, it really was comfortable. “So, how does the calibration work?” he asked, settling in, and rolling his sleeve up and placing his arm on the rest.

His other selves all stood around, watching carefully. This was also a test for them, too, and they needed to know how it worked. If, and how, it could be manipulated.

“Well, we’re setting up the starting point, which I call the white room,” Rebecca said, slipping the IV into his arm. He grimaced lightly; Rebecca was being careful, but she wasn’t a trained nurse. It was lucky that his veins were so visible. “It’s sort of a loading area. The Animus in Abstergo had something similar, but that genuinely just  _ is _ the loading screen as it set up the environment. I added more to mine.”

“Yeah?” Desmond prompted. Rebecca turned to the helmet array, adjusting so that it settled around his head.

“One of Lucy’s ideas,” Rebecca said, “It would help smooth the transition between your body and the memory, so you’re not just jumping straight in. It also just helps loading times, really. But I’ve also added a really simple program, sort of like you’d get in a first-person shooter, if three-dee. You do a motion and the program reads it for more accurate motions.”

“Cool,” Desmond said.

And it really was. Just the programming itself, of taking a consciousness and placing it in a virtual reality, was already awesome. Man, but it revolutionized technology at nearly all levels. It made sense that Abstergo really wanted to patent the technology, nevermind their screwy genetic memory testing.

Rebecca grinned at him. “I think so, yeah. Things like this is why I love computers.”

“Okay,” Desmond sighed, and settled. It already was much more comfortable than anything Abstergo had. He closed his eyes. “Ready whenever you are.”

“Alright,” Rebecca said, and he heard her move away. “Okay. Sending you in in three, two, one-”

Desmond took a breath and felt the sensation fade, to be replaced by- something else. He was standing instead of reclining, and he opened his eyes.

The space he in was, quite literally, white and expansive. It was nearly identical to the space that he entered and exited the Animus from in Abstergo, but somehow much more inviting. Instead of walking through white fog that led nowhere, it was more like he was enclosed within clouds. Still white, still bright, and still empty.

He looked down to his body. Huh. It was himself, wearing everything that he had been wearing in reality. If Desmond focused too hard, it sort of- jerked around, like three-dee modeling that wasn’t set  _ just _ right.

“Why do I look like myself?” Desmond asked out loud. Lucy and Vidic had been able to speak to him, so he assumed that Rebecca could. “In Abstergo, I was always represented as Altair.”

Which wasn’t as mind-bending as Desmond thought it’d be if he didn’t have direct access to Altair’s literal body, but whatever. No one needed to know that.

_ “Because we aren’t trying to shove you into a memory right now,” _ Rebecca said, voice slightly tinny as if coming through a speaker. Made sense.  _ “The Animus’ program, without a memory to pull a representative model from, pulled your sense of self into the model you currently see yourself as. If you worked at it, you could probably shape shift in there.” _

“...okay, that’s seriously actually pretty awesome,” Desmond said, and wondered if he could make himself look like his other selves. “Right, we’re here to calibrate.”

He closed his eyes, and reached for his other selves. Not sharing, but to bring them  _ here, _ with him. Another time, and he’d have to check to see if he could still visit  _ them… _

_ “I know, right? Hold on a sec, I’m going to load in some items and targets for you to work with,” _ Rebecca said.

“Oh, this is weird,” Elise said, bringing a hand to her head.

“Not bad, though,” Ezio said, looking around.

“It’s much better than Abstergo, just by this,” Jun said, sighing in relief. “We’d have to check to see how it’d work with an actual memory, but this is already easier to work with.”

_ “Huh,” _ Rebecca said thoughtfully.

“Yeah?” Desmond asked curiously, looking up. Probably not where whatever camera existed was actually at, but it at least made sense. Rebecca didn’t seem like a trained-from-birth Assassin, who knew  _ up  _ was a very valid direction to exist in.

_ “Nothing bad, promise,” _ Rebecca assured,  _ “Just some strange brain readings. Looks like your brain is much more active in the Animus than we previously thought.” _

“I  _ am _ trying here,” Desmond said dryly, carefully not looking in the others’ direction.

Huh. Was that how his brain always looked when he interacted with them, or was it because he was pulling them to him an extra step than to just where his body was? And it seemed that Rebecca didn’t see them, either.

“To be helpful, at least. In Abstergo it was mostly me trying not to die.” Desmond clarified.

Because that was a mess and a half. Rebecca’s Animus, even in these couple of minutes, was already ten times better.

Soft laughter from above.  _ “Yeah, I figured. Just something I noticed, it shouldn’t cause any problems,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “Anyways, here we go. It’s basically a small obstacle course, with some weapons and targets. I figured if we’re training you to be an Assassin by sticking you in Assassin memories, you’d best get some feel for them here.” _

“Thanks, I guess,” Desmond said, and looked around.

It really was simple. Nothing too strenuous. Honestly, it seemed  _ too _ simple, “I’m thinking this is just the first level?” Desmond asked.

_ “Pretty much,” _ Rebecca agreed,  _ “We want to work up to the fine control stuff. I’ve loaded the Animus with as much self-learning programs as I could, but it still needs stuff to learn from.” _

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re absolutely amazing?” Desmond asked.

He had listened to Ami and Seda talk computers long enough to know how hard it was to implement self-learning programs. Especially since most self-learning programming tended to be…  _ off _ until it reached the point of stability. If Rebecca trusted the programming around an actual human being, it had to be pretty advanced already.

“Can we keep her?” Ezio asked cheerfully. “We’re already keeping Lucy.”

“She is a package deal with Hastings, though,” Desmond pointed out privately.

He waited and- Rebecca didn’t react to that. Nice. It seemed as if their usual patterns of speaking to each other and to others worked in the Animus. Seemed it took the sense of self and recreated it as accurate as it could. He wondered if he tried to make his other selves visible if the Animus would detect them...

“You don’t hate him as much as you act,” Jun pointed out. “What did Ezio say? He’s very much like Malik?”

Desmond scowled at her. “None of you are going to let that go, are you? Why don’t you ever bring this up with Aveline?”

“Because Aveline isn’t identical to Altair,” Elise said easily.

“I really truly hate you guys,” Desmond muttered. He shook his head, and turned back to the obstacle course. “So, just go through as quickly as possible?”

_ “Yeah. I’ll add more and more difficulties as you finish,” _ Rebecca said.

Desmond rolled his shoulders. He definitely didn’t need it for this, but he’d better keep loose. For as simple as this was, he did not put it past Rebecca to multiply the difficulty instead of adding to it.

And he’d have to figure out if he wanted to use his true skill as himself, or make it look like he was being computer assisted. He trusted Rebecca at this point, but Lucy was still in charge of writing reports, and he absolutely did not trust Vidic.

Or his parents, but there were layers to  _ that _ that Desmond needed to see them face to face again to figure out.

“We can worry about it when we’re done here,” Ezio said, clapping Desmond on the shoulder. He grinned at him. “No reason not to go along with this right now, is there?”

“None of us have anything particularly important to do,” Jun said, shrugging.

“I do, actually,” Elise said, snorting, “I’d just rather be here in all honesty.”

Desmond made a sympathetic face. Yeah, Elise was dealing with some stressful things right now. This would probably seem like a vacation in comparison. “Okay. Here we go.”

* * *

Something was wrong.

Not  _ bad, _ just wrong, as if something in their carefully adapted view of the world had shifted. Like their hair, or their eyes, changing color. And not a completely different color, either, which would be noticeable. Like Ezio’s dark hair gaining its summer highlights, dark brown and coppery. Subtle, but still-

“Altair,” Desmond breathed. “It’s Altair, isn’t it?”

It fit. He had been unconscious after they had defeated Al Mualim, after the Apple did  _ something _ to them. But unlike before, when their bond would go blank when one of them was unconscious, they  _ felt _ him still. Distant, like he had been ignoring them, but  _ there. _

Something had happened to Altair that made him fit differently, something none of them were used to.

Desmond took a deep, fortifying breath. Something was not  _ wrong. _ Nothing about their bond, about the connection the eight of them had could ever be wrong. Altair could never, ever be wrong. But- as shown, it could be  _ different. _

So, he reached. Nothing had felt off, before, other than their notice that they could still feel Altair. It might’ve been the fact that they were all too exhausted to notice, but that couldn’t be it. Something had to have happened to Altair  _ now _ that brought it to their attention.

“Altair,” Desmond said, and watched as his other selves appeared in Masyaf alongside him. He looked around, and found that they were standing on top the tallest parapet. It was a familiar place, and he relaxed at the sight.

Altair sat there, facing the distant view. He wasn’t leaning against the taller edge, but rather his legs were out, hanging over the edge. Not a position unfamiliar to them all, but one they rarely went into. It wasn’t a position that lent itself to quickly moving.

“Altair,” Desmond walked forward with the others. He had appeared the closest, with Aveline, so they were the ones to wrap Altair into a hug from behind first. The others all pressed closer, and they breathed together. “Are you okay?”

It was confusing. He was so used to just  _ knowing. _ And- Desmond felt he could  _ know, _ if he focused, like he always did. But it felt like Altair was holding back? Or, not holding back, but just standing apart. Which wasn’t right. They existed together or not at all.

“Yes and no,” Altair said, and leaned back into their hold. Desmond couldn’t see his face, but he felt Altair sigh and  _ knew _ his eyes closed.

Desmond shared a glance with Aveline over Altair’s head, and held him tighter.

There was no need to say anything like ‘we are here’ and ‘you can tell us’ because they always did. They knew that already. It beat through their hearts, a part of them. Honestly, they wouldn’t have ever thought otherwise. It simply wasn’t in their nature.

So, now it was a waiting game. Altair would tell them, or show them, and then they’d know how to go from there. It might be within the next few minutes, or it might take a couple of days as Altair gathered his strength. It didn’t need immediate attention, so they’d let the matter sit until then.

Until then, they pulled Altair into that mental space, and held him close. They gave him their strength and their love, and their constant assurance that everything would be okay. It was a warm loop as they fed into each other, and it helped  _ them _ just as much as it did Altair. They always were strongest when together like this.

Desmond didn’t know how long they all stood there, wrapped up in each other, but it couldn’t have been too long. No one had come to grab Altair, like Malik would have if they’d been gone for longer than necessary. Maybe half an hour at most.

Altair took a deep, shaky breath. Desmond and Aveline hugged him tighter, and the others did the same behind them, and he felt Altair relax minutely.

“You good?” Aveline murmured into his hair.

“Better, with you here,” Altair said quietly.

“Always,” Desmond agreed. It was echoed by the others.

“You ready to tell us?” Aveline asked.

Altair sighed. “Yes. I just need to figure out how to say it.”

“No pressure. We have all the time in the world,” Aveline said.

* * *

When Desmond returned to his actual body, he found Rebecca and Lucy watching him with concerned eyes. He winced internally. If he was gone for the better part of an hour, focused entirely on Altair… yeah, he’d be concerned too. Those that knew of the eight of them didn’t  _ like _ that their minds up and left to a different time and place, but at least they knew better than to be truly worried about them.

“Hey, what’s up?” Desmond asked nonchalantly.

“Desmond, are you okay?” Lucy asked, a hand hovering over his shoulder. She seemed hesitant to touch him at all.

Crap. Did he do anything? When they visited each other, their bodies tended to go on autopilot. Mostly they just stood or sat there, but sometimes they reacted if their bodies were interacted with. And that could be bad, depending on who it was and what they did. Desmond didn’t think he’d hurt Rebecca or Lucy, but he might’ve done something worrying.

“Yeah, why?” Desmond asked, tilting his head. “I said that I’d take a nap for my lunch break, didn’t I?”

And he did! He ate a sandwich quickly, and then climbed into his bed to visit Altair. Desmond made sure to tell them that he was napping so that they knew he wasn’t just lost in his own head.

“Yeah, you did,” Rebecca agreed, “But we’ve been trying to get you to wake up for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” Desmond said, frowning. Well, he had been ignoring everything but Altair. And nothing pressing had pulled him back to his body. “I didn’t realize. Sorry?”

Lucy frowned. “Desmond, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Lucy,” Desmond sighed, “I’m  _ still _ recovering from Abstergo. I’m a lot better than I was, even with just a full night’s sleep, but my head is still scrambled. I know I offered to continue using the Animus, but we all know that’s just going to make me worse.”

Desmond wasn’t lying. The worst of his headache had left, but he was still tired. He and his other selves were tired. It didn’t help that they didn’t have time to just recover from what had happened, either. Desmond was here with an Assassin cell, and Altair was in Masyaf dealing with the aftermath of a coup. It’d be a while before either of them could just pass out for a solid week, and even then it wouldn’t be the week they needed.

Lucy winced lightly. Desmond refused to apologize. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to take care of himself. People depended on him.

“So, where were you?” Rebecca asked curiously, pushing past that particular display.

“What?” Desmond asked, blinking in surprise at her.

“You were practically unconscious,” Rebecca said, “In a ‘no one is home’ kind of way, instead of just the sleepy way. Where’d you go?”

Desmond stared at her, and then snorted. “In Masyaf, actually, with Altair,” he said wryly.

“Really?” Rebecca asked. She sat down on his bed. “What was that like?” She waved her hand when Lucy frowned at her. “Yeah yeah, I know, the Animus did some pretty bad things to you. But you were also living memories of what life was one thousand years ago in the Middle East.”

“Outside of the assassinations, you mean?” Desmond asked.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

Desmond hummed in thought. That was honest curiosity, he felt. Lucy also paid more attention, though that did make sense. She’d know all about Altair Ibn-La’Ahad, since she was born into the Order.

“Different, but also the same, as the culture you’d find here in our times. People were still people. The Holy Land was going through some troubles and it sort of created a schism. Christians and Saracens didn’t hate each other, but they did not like each other, either. Though I think that was more on the war that happened around them, rather than their own feelings on each other, in the first place,” Desmond said.

“So, like today,” Rebecca said.

“Pretty much,” Desmond agreed wryly. “Altair was only half Saracen, did you know? His mother was a Christian woman, from England. He often used that to his advantage.”

It was actually his maternal grandmother that took his toddler mother to Masyaf, where she was trained as a Sister. But that was more information than they needed.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Rebecca said.

“It is,” Lucy agreed, “Much of what we know about Altair was from after he became the Mentor, and everything he did during his tenure. There’s practically nothing about his life previous to it, and it’s not because the information was destroyed. It just wasn’t deemed important, I think.”

It wouldn’t be. The culture of Masyaf was that life was transient, so you kept to yourself what was  _ yours _ greedily. Assassins in that city-state barely owned their own bodies, with everything dedicated to the Order. But they were still human, still people, and therefore under what Assassins were supposed to protect.

Compromises were made. They couldn’t own much of anything, so their lives outside of training and missions was  _ theirs. _ If it wasn’t vital information that the Order needed to know, then it simply wasn’t written down.

It was likely the Codex that Altair was supposed to write was how most of the information about Masyaf and its Assassins was found. That lack of recordkeeping was one of the things that they had planned to change about the Order, if only a little. Records would be kept, because who knew when that information would be needed, and less restrictions would be placed on the Assassins themselves.

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed. “Not that I like having such clear memories of that one summer, or that I’m kind of dreaming about the rest of his life, but I like knowing how similar and dissimilar it is to what I grew up with.”

Rebecca eyed Desmond. “Why don’t you tell Shaun that? He was a history professor before he became an Assassin. He’d love to talk to you about this.”

Desmond made an exaggerated face at her. “Do I have to?”

Lucy covered her mouth to hide her smile.

Rebecca snorted. “You don’t hate him. You barely even dislike him.”

“He’s still an asshole,” Desmond said. “I wouldn’t mind talking history at him, there’s actually some things I wanted to ask. But I’m not going to try and make friends if he doesn’t get over himself soon.”

“Sarcasm is a part of his personality though,” Lucy said amusedly.

“Oh, I don’t mind sarcasm,” Desmond said. He was used to it, with seven other selves that were absolutely not afraid to tease each other. “I don’t like that he doesn’t know how to apologize when he makes a mistake. Sure, it’s stress. But that doesn’t give anyone a right to take it out on other people.”

Lucy and Rebecca blinked at him in surprise. Desmond frowned at them. What, was this one of those things that were so obvious they didn’t think about it? That was mild betrayal on Rebecca’s part. He thought she was the most emotionally intelligent of them, and she’d have known this already. Not to mention that their ‘soft’ Assassin training should have covered this.

Rebecca watched Desmond intently, and then nodded. She seemed more serious than she normally did. “Yeah, I get you,” she said. “I’m used to Shaun, so I know how he feels about things and what he does and doesn’t mean. But you’re a stranger, so none of us really had no reason to make assumptions about you.”

Desmond blinked at her, and then scowled. “Fuck. All the information you have about me is from my  _ parents, _ isn’t it?”

Both Lucy and Rebecca winced at that.

Well, here came his anxiety rushing back. It was enough that Evie appeared at his side, looking sternly at Lucy and Rebecca. Fuck. Is that why they thought he was an idiot?

“Yeah, sorry,” Rebecca offered. “I didn’t take a lot of it to heart, promise, but it might have clouded our judgment prematurely. Shaun especially, since Bill worked the most with him.”

Desmond groaned and placed his head in his hands. Evie placed a steady hand on his back and ran soothing circles on it. “Dammit.”

“We’ll talk with him,” Lucy promised. She finally placed her hand on his shoulder, though the touch was light.

“Please,” Desmond said.

0o0o0


	13. Chapter 13

Desmond dropped into the bed, face down, groaning heavily and with feeling. It was a sturdy bed, and the mattress and blankets were soft and well-worn, even if they were a little scratchy. He didn’t bother checking to see  _ whose _ bed it was, only that he was in a safe location. Anywhere was better than the awkward place he had just come from.

“You’re having a hard time of it, aren’t you?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked bluntly, though he wasn’t unsympathetic.

Desmond turned slightly to look at him. He was geared up, and oiling his hidden blade. His hood was down though. “Hi,” he greeted, and pressed his face back into the pillow.

“Why do we always end up together when your parents are brought up?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asked amusedly.

Desmond made a noise of complaint, which stopped when Ratonhnhaké:ton pressed his hand on his back. He didn’t have his gloves on, and the weight of it was warm and comfortable. Desmond turned his head to speak more clearly. It didn’t matter, they heard each other regardless, but the idea of it was important.

“Because we both have problems with our dads?” Desmond offered. “At least, I think it’s my dad. He’d be the one that had final say on outsiders being brought into the Order.” His mother was also more self-aware than his dad ever was, from what he remembered.

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn’t make a face, but Desmond was too used to him by now. That was agreement right there. “Is it easier, I wonder,” he said, “That I know where my father is, and can reach him easily? Or that even separated as you are, your father is causing you problems regardless?”

“It depends,” Desmond said, turning to his side. “You know your father is a piece of work, and always has been, and is what can be considered an enemy no matter what. My father is supposed to be my superior and leader, but is instead causing issues as if he sees me as a potential enemy and is turning others against me. Even if on accident.”

And wasn’t that the kicker right there. Desmond didn’t think that his father  _ meant  _ to make it look like he had been an ungrateful child, who left a loving family to go make a mess of his own life. That’s exactly what happened though, and Hastings had some rather negative preconceived notions about Desmond and his relationship with his father disproven.

Where the fuck was the love and praise for Desmond’s skills when he was actually  _ there? _

Not that Hastings believed him, really. Maybe that he wasn’t as deadbeat as he thought, but he still didn’t like him. At least now he wouldn’t take out that on Desmond for no good reason. Desmond didn’t think that Hastings would like him at all, but it was better than outright hostility.

Ugh. It had to be one of those things that only made sense when presented with the reality of the situation. And Desmond really,  _ really _ did not want to meet his father again. Especially not to  _ just _ make a point of something.

“You’re planning for your siege on Fort George,” Desmond said, eyeing all of the weapons and tools laid out. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, so best to focus on what someone else was doing.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s entire  _ life _ was one of those things that Desmond just shrugged at and moved on with his life. Because if he got excited for literally anything that Ratonhnhaké:ton was doing, he’d stress himself into an early heart attack. Desmond was living sideways to the American Revolution, yes, it’s cool, moving on.

“I am,” Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed. He went back to oiling his blades, taking his hand off of Desmond’s back. He missed the weight immediately, but Ratonhnhaké:ton had more important things to worry about.

“I think our collective mid-twenties are going to give us all stress ulcers,” Desmond mused, thinking over everything that happened to all of them in the past couple of years.

Ezio and Evie were actually the ones that had the easiest time of it, with their big life-changing revelations happening in their teens. Unless something happened in the next couple of years, but Desmond was being willfully ignorant. It was all good things for them moving forward.

“I’m sure we’ll all have a breakdown some point in the future,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “But for now we have each other to keep us going.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty strong all on your own,” Desmond said, watching Ratonhnhaké:ton.

He smiled amusedly when Ratonhnhaké:ton blushed, the tips of his ears turning a deep red. Not a lie, though. It was Ratonhnhaké:ton that they drew upon when they were faltering and needed the sheer grit to move forward. It wasn’t stubbornness, exactly, but very close.

“And I’d be less so without you,” Ratonhnhaké:ton replied.

“We’d be less so without each other,” Desmond agreed, and returned to his stomach to press his face back into the pillow. He felt better, with Ratonhnhaké:ton there. He felt better just being away, but that was a separate issue.

What did it say about recent events that he felt like smothering himself in his pillow almost every day?

“You are just being overdramatic,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, having picked up on his thoughts.

“I am  _ not,” _ Desmond said, and pressed his face further into the pillow. He didn’t need to breathe while visiting the others, which was why he could do this.

“Desmond,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Desmond paused. “Fine. I am being over dramatic. I don’t care. I don’t want to deal with Hastings or Lucy or Rebecca right now. And I definitely don’t want to deal with my parents. If I want to act like a five year old, I  _ will.” _

“I never said anything about you stopping,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said amusedly. “Or that there was anything wrong with it.”

“You didn’t have to  _ say _ anything,” Desmond grumbled. For all that Ratonhnhaké:ton spent the least amount of time teasing compared to the others, it didn’t mean that he was incapable of it. Of course it was like this that Desmond was forcefully reminded of it.

“I don’t say a lot of things,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“Oh, I’m sure Achilles hears every bit of it,” Desmond said. The old man had the uncanny ability to know when exactly he was being sassed at, no matter that nothing was said. Actually,  _ especially _ if nothing was said, considering that oftentimes it wasn’t even Ratonhnhaké:ton that sassed him.

With that, they both went silent, just being appreciative of each other’s presence. It was nice, and peaceful, for all that tension that hung over Ratonhnhaké:ton. It was a near permanent thing now, with the war going on, so Desmond did his best to be a soothing presence in return.

When Ratonhnhaké:ton was done oiling his weapons, he turned to Desmond. “You’re going to have to head back eventually.”

“I don’t want to,” Desmond said, flipping over and throwing his arm over his eyes. He had already gone through the second half of his day in the Animus, as promised by the nine-to-five work schedule.

“You did promise to make them dinner, though,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

Desmond sighed. “I did, didn’t I?” He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Ugh. I can’t let Hastings keep me from that, either. Nonna especially would find out and she’d be  _ so _ disappointed in me. Not to mention Seda…”

“You’ve already made your move forward. If Hastings cannot accept that, then it is not your fault, nor your responsibility,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “You can be polite and not let your feelings get in the way, but you do not owe him much of anything else, either.”

“It’s up to him at this point, you mean?” Desmond asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton inclined his head. “Yes.”

“I know,” Desmond said, closing his eyes.

He  _ knew _ that. But it wasn’t any more fun dealing with it than previously. In fact, it might even be worse, considering that they weren’t that many places to go in the hideout. They both needed the space. Except that Desmond could visit his other selves, and Hastings was stuck.

Honestly, Desmond figured that half the reason why Assassin cells were caught out had to be the constant stress of living in each other’s pockets.

Even the eight of them spread their time with each other over different people. As much as they all loved each other and got along, it would get  _ tiring _ to spend time with them all at once all of the time.

If he was sticking with this cell, then there were some other decisions that Desmond needed to make. Now that he was stopping to actually think about it, he’d realized that he’d been making plans in the back of his mind for it. Training them to fight, beyond what they already knew. Teaching them some new skills that were actually old, and lost over the centuries. Adding to the skills that they already had, especially with what Isra had taught the eight of them.

It was something that they all had gotten used to doing. It was practically second nature to them, and it actually started with Ezio. He had taken the skills and knowledge of what the rest of them knew, and started training Claudia, and then Petruccio. Altair helped teach Kadar, and then later the other children. As Desmond’s makeshift gang in New York grew, he also started teaching them. Whatever Evie knew, she soon taught Jacob. Ratonhnhaké:ton had his novices.

“Start with Rebecca,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “She is the one you trust the most right now, and has proven herself to want to help was almost no ulterior motive. Where she goes, Hastings will follow, even if he’ll complain about it all the while.”

“Lucy, of course, is a separate issue,” Desmond sighed.

She required some devoted attention, and that wasn’t even taking into account that she was a Templar. Lucy was in charge of sending reports not just to Vidic and Abstergo, but to his parents. To get her to turn away from her rather detail oriented mission, he’d have to get her trust. He felt like he had a good start already, but who knew how she actually felt. Their Eagle Vision helped a lot, but it left out nuance that Desmond needed.

“You cannot be slow about it,” Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed out, “It’s been less than two days, but she will already have sent out reports by now.”

“I know,” Desmond said. He sighed heavily, stretching his arms over his head. “And I’ll try and talk with her some more at dinner.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled wistfully. “Hopefully you will have more luck with her than I had with my father.”

“She’s more adaptive than he is, I think,” Desmond said, “Though I don’t think that’s too hard, in all honesty.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton snorted in agreement. “Get going, Desmond. Dinner is not being made without you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Desmond said, rolling his eyes. He hopped out of bed, and pressed his cheek to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s head, a sideways kiss to his hair. “See you later.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton hummed in agreement, and Desmond returned to his own body. He was in bed, again, curled up in the top blanket, hiding from the world. Because that was his life now, apparently.

But none of them were ones to hide from their problems indefinitely. Maybe a quick breather to gather their wits, but that was about it. So, Desmond climbed out of bed, adjusted his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, and took a breath. Time to face the awkward music.

Dinner was a good start. Food always made things better even when it felt like it didn’t. And Hastings did go out for groceries yesterday, so…

Desmond hummed and went into the small kitchen, searching for ingredients. He passed by the others on the way in, and they all carefully ignored each other. Well, Rebecca at least threw him a thumbs up, but even Lucy was focused on her own work. Considering the brief… conversation, if it could be called that, they had it seemed Desmond wasn’t the only one that just wanted some space.

He didn’t make anything fancy, even if he would have liked the distraction. It was all large meals that could keep for a couple of days, so that they had leftovers to eat. But Desmond made absolutely certain that it was good food, because there were several people in New York that would be disappointed in him if he didn’t. And he hated disappointing them, because then he just felt guilty.

“Dinner’s ready!” Desmond called, grabbing some plates and utensils. He served himself a plate of food, and then went to sit on the edge of the Animus chair. He made himself available to talk, and if these three were  _ any _ good at what they did, they’d recognize it immediately.

Rebecca sat in her desk chair, and made a noise of appreciation. “Oh my god, Desmond, this is amazing.”

Desmond smiled, pleased. “You’re only saying that because you’ve had nothing but takeout since you got here,” he said.

“Well, yeah, but this is actually really good,” Rebecca said. She pointed a fork at him. “You are now and forever on cooking duty.”

Lucy also sat close to him, though she looked kind of awkward doing so. “Oh,” she said, looking at her plate of food, “This is  _ really _ good. Thank you, Desmond.”

“You’re welcome,” Desmond said. Score one for Seda and her recipes!

Hastings was the last of them to arrive, and he frowned heavily at no one in particular. Desmond let him be, recognizing the hit to his ego that it was. Desmond really didn’t have anything against Hastings in particular, so he hoped that he did the Assassin thing and adapted to the situation. He had too many people relying on him for this to cause problems.

“...this is good,” Hastings said quietly, each word bitten as if it pained him to say them. He sighed. “Thank you, Desmond.”

Desmond hummed a non committal answer, aware that pretty much anything he said right now would be perceived as a slight. Hastings was smart enough to know that it was an irrational response, but that didn’t stop feelings from being feelings.

He saw Rebecca keeping an eye on Hastings, even as she ate. Desmond relaxed; Rebecca knew what she was doing and would take care of Hastings. There was a sense of responsibility there. If Desmond couldn’t trust anything else, he could trust that at least.

“You’re doing well,” Evie said, sitting next to him and watching the other three. “I suppose this is just more proof overall that we were right to leave the Farm,” she mused.

“It was too stifling,” Aveline agreed. Desmond greeted her, aware that she had been spending most of the day with Altair, who needed the company the most. “We knew that the Order had become more militaristic, but also it was just… tiring, to be there.”

“At this point, we can safely assume that Rebecca and Hastings were not born into the Order,” Evie said, “Though Hastings spent too much time with your father, if he is so unwilling to bend even now.”

“You’ll need to learn why they were brought into the Order if you want a chance to steal them from the Assassins,” Aveline said.

It wasn’t that simple, really. Still, Desmond agreed with them. Things might be complicated, but they didn’t need to have complicated answers. He wanted Lucy and Rebecca on his side. Or, at the very least, not with either the Templars or Assassins.

He really needed to send a message out. Rebecca said his email account was active, but he had been distracted before he could do anything. Tonight, then, after dinner. Ami had come up with a code that he could use pretty easily, and to tell them about the cell he was currently with.

Desmond would also ask her to send a message to Erudito to see if they could help hide them from Abstergo. They likely knew about Desmond as Subject Seventeen, so it might be easier to ask for their help than any previous time.

Maybe he could have them send him all the info they could on Sixteen.

Desmond cleaned his dishes quickly, and started putting the extra food away, glad that they had a fridge here.

Even if they were hiding- and he had his suspicions that Abstergo knew exactly where they were- this was comfortable at least. He figured that they had a few more days before Vidic got impatient with how slowly they were working through the memories that Desmond was  _ supposed _ to be going through. That was plenty enough time to get started.

“Hey, Rebecca?” Desmond asked when she came into the kitchen next.

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me my email? I’d like to send that message out now,” Desmond said.

“Yeah, sure,” Rebecca said, yawning. “This way, I’ll let you use my laptop for now.”

Right. She didn’t sleep much at all last night, did she? If he was keeping her, he’d have to help her figure out her schedule. If he didn’t allow any of his captains to work more than a night with no sleep, Desmond wouldn’t let any of his people.

“Oof, thank you,” Desmond said. He did not spend the past few years with Ami in his life to know how much of a privilege that was.

Rebecca grinned lazily at him. “No problem, really. We’ll have to grab you a smartphone somewhere. You can get them pretty cheap if you go looking, and I definitely can repurpose it so that you can use it.”

“Thanks,” Desmond said, as Rebecca led him to her laptop. The casing was old looking and rather boxy, but that did nothing to hide how smoothly it ran, even when it was just booting up.

He shivered with the sudden mental image of Ami and Rebecca meeting. That had the potential of being world-breaking, and he wasn’t sure he could deal with that. There had to be a limit to his ability to adapt, and that sounded like it was near the edge of it.

“Here we go,” Rebecca said, and opened up an email. “I’ve given you a temporary password, so you’ll want to fix that as soon as possible. The Network supports twelve languages, including Arabic, Russian, Italian, and Spanish, so it can be whatever you want.”

“You can add a profile picture?” Desmond asked amusedly when she pulled up his profile.

“Yup!” Rebecca said. She pulled out her phone. “That reminds me,” she said, and held it up.

Desmond raised an eyebrow, and gave her a small grin. She snapped a picture, and then pressed a few buttons that he couldn’t see. After a couple of seconds, she returned to his shiny new profile and clicked the camera icon.

“Here you go!” Rebecca said cheerfully after scrolling through her many,  _ many _ pictures to the one she just took. “You now have a profile picture.”

It wasn’t a  _ bad _ picture, really. “Thank you?” Desmond offered.

Rebecca snorted, and pushed her laptop to him. “Here, change your password and write your email and stuff.”

Desmond nodded, and took the laptop from her. He changed his password first; an inside joke that spanned three languages. Then he wrote his message to Ami. It was simple, and wouldn’t incriminate anything about the Assassins. He made sure to let them know that he was okay, relatively safe, and working on something. He asked them to water his plants. He wrote a coded message about the truth about everything, and to please contact Erudito on his behalf.

Desmond read over his message again, and then sent it. If anyone snooped, they wouldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. “Thanks, Rebecca,” he said. He logged out of his profile and stepped away from the laptop.

“No problem,” Rebecca said.

She checked over her laptop. Desmond wouldn’t do anything, and Rebecca knew that, but she was still a computer person and this was her baby. Not Baby, as she’d lovingly nicknamed the Animus, but her child. Rebecca would be distraught if anything happened to the Animus. She would kill if anything happened to her laptop.

“No rush, but having a phone would be nice,” Desmond said, leaning against the desk.

“Yeah, I’ll get on that right away,” Rebecca said, making a face. “That was only a couple of minutes, but it still felt really wrong. Ugh.”

“I know how much of a sacrifice that was for you,” Desmond said seriously.

“You have no idea,” Rebecca said, and rubbed at her face with her hands. “Ugh.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to recover from that,” Desmond said, “I’m going to go talk to Lucy.”

“Yeah, go do that,” Rebecca said, waving him away. “Tomorrow- yeah, tomorrow, I’ll definitely have a memory for you to get into.”

Desmond made a face at her, didn’t disagree. He was lucky, he felt, in that the entire day was spent calibrating and figuring out the Animus. Rebecca monitored him from above, but he could actually control the program from within. It was tetchy, and Rebecca was still working on fine tuning it, but it was  _ there. _

If he needed to, Desmond could remove himself from the Animus on his own. And having that agency was…  _ nice. _

And it didn’t have to take that long, either. Rebecca was good at what she did, as evidenced by taking a different operating system and making it work with her own. She had taken the data Lucy brought her and basically reworked it to fit in the Animus 2.0. The fact that she had spent the entire day doing what amounted to what was, practically, nothing said a lot.

Rebecca might be the best person among their motley group of people.

He turned and walked to where Lucy was at her own station.

Desmond had spent some time thinking about how he could approach Lucy. There were so many ways that he could deal with it. The easiest, if longest, way to do it was act as himself with the others. The cruellest, he felt, was attacking all of her weak points and causing her to doubt herself.

Instead, he was going to do his best to treat Lucy as herself. She was so focused on her role in both the Assassin and Templar Orders that she didn’t really worry about herself.

It was something that the eight of them had noticed, for both Assassins and Templars. Their feud had been going on for so long that it almost felt that the two Orders- Assassin or Templar, free will or power and control- were the  _ only _ paths that they could take.

Maybe, if Desmond and his other selves were truly singular instead of connected as they were, they would all feel the same. Even Elise, who grew up with Arno, would have trouble reconciling the differences between the two Orders. There was so much hurt done on both sides that it was hard for them to ever think about lowering their defenses.

But, as the eight of them lived, they were also  _ proof _ that there was more than two paths. That it wasn’t a fork in the road, but a windy twisty maze of intersecting lines. It was why even Elise had managed to internalize the Creed. Nothing was absolute, Everything was possible. It might be hard, and be a lot more work to handle, but one could  _ absolutely  _ choose what they were willing to do between the two Orders and make their own paths.

Desmond was not an Assassin by modern standards, and he was not a Templar.

None of them were.

And now, he needed to get Lucy thinking like that too. For  _ herself. _ His offer to help her escape may have planted a seed, but now he needed to nurture it.

“Hey,” Desmond said when he reached Lucy. “How’re you doing?”

Lucy blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re team leader,” Desmond pointed out, “But you’re also just out of years of undercover work. Disregarding both Assassins and Templars for the moment, that’s got to be hard on anybody.”

Lucy sighed heavily, and ran her hand over her face. She smiled wryly at him. “It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted.

Because she was being presented with two people that loved her and she loved in return, Desmond thought. Though the red and blue remained level, her overall aura was shifting in discontent. She wasn’t one to just up and abandon her loyalties, but now Lucy was being reminded about what she had to lose.

And she knew that anything she did to follow orders would be a betrayal.

“That offer to get you out still stands,” Desmond said quietly.

Lucy didn’t need her hand to be held. She was a grown woman with her own skills and accomplishments, and Desmond didn’t need to patronize her. But she could still use a friend.

Lucy looked up at him. “...I’m still thinking about it,” she replied, just as quietly.

She honestly was. It wasn’t even a day, and it definitely wasn’t a decision that could be made so quickly. Still, it was one that she needed to figure out quickly. Desmond liked her and wanted to help her, but there was only so much that he could do if Lucy was unwilling.

“Just as long as you don’t forget,” Desmond said.

“I won’t. I promise,” Lucy said.

0o0o0


	14. Chapter 14

That night, Desmond found himself with Altair.

He looked around and saw that Altair was once again alone, though he wasn’t on their usual parapet. No, they were in the Library, at the top where the Mentor’s open office was situated. The idea of it was that the Mentor was never locked away from the people they led, and that they were in easy access to the knowledge that they were to teach others.

Even so, it felt constricting. Desmond wondered if that was the weight of the Order that now rested on Altair’s shoulders. Their plan to make him Mentor was a long one, and to have it suddenly thrust on him years before they planned for it would be hard  _ normally, _ nevermind after such a betrayal. Now Altair had an Order that looked to him not just for leadership and strength, but for stability and the drive to push forward.

Altair wasn’t going through the paperwork like he had been, double checking all of the records to see what Al Mualim had done to the Order without their notice, helped along by Malik and the others. Altair stood at the window, overlooking the valley at the back of the castle.

“Altair,” Desmond greeted softly, and stood beside him. He grabbed Altair’s hand, and leaned against his shoulder.

The change in Altair was still new, and they were all still tired. They’d move past it of course, but until then they leaned into each other more than they normally did.

“Desmond,” Altair returned. He turned golden eyes on him, and Desmond met his gaze.

His eyes were never going to return to the light brown they used to be. At least, not for them, who had the second sight to perceive the color change. But as Altair rested and time passed, the color settled into a more natural gold instead of the one with the inner glow. Enough so that even Malik and Rauf, who did not have Eagle Vision, were starting to notice the change. That Elise didn’t need to borrow their second sight to see if they were using theirs.

Altair’s eyes were literally changing color, not just metaphorically.

Altair’s second sight was no longer his  _ second _ sight. They didn’t know whether to be terrified or not yet, unused to such an extreme change within any of them. Either way, they’d deal with the change like they handled everything else.

“How are you feeling?” Desmond asked.

He  _ knew, _ or he could find out, but much of their mental health dealt with talking with each other. It was when they couldn’t speak about it that they started properly worrying.

Altair smirked lightly, but he sighed heavily after a long moment. “Exhausted, but that goes without saying,” he said wryly.

Desmond snorted. “No shit, really?”

Altair leaned back into Desmond in amused reprimand. “...strangely content,” he admitted.

“How so?” Desmond asked. Because there was more to  _ that _ than just what Desmond thought Altair was saying.

“I feel victorious,” Altair said slowly, thinking it over. “I faced an enemy and reclaimed my territory from them, and protected my people. We are recovering well from the damage caused, and what illness remained is being rooted out.”

Desmond hummed. “Well, that’s definitely something to be  _ content _ about,” he allowed, “but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Because Altair had already explained what he had figured out earlier. That the Apple had reached out to him, testing, and found him  _ acceptable. _ They still weren’t certain  _ what, _ exactly, that meant, but they knew to keep an eye on both it and each other. With the Animus, they already figured out it was literally engraved into Altair’s blood- or rather, his DNA. Which was also incredibly worrisome as well.

“...we always ascribed our second sight, our Eagle Vision, to the eagle that lives within us, and shares with us its sight,” Altair started, as if testing the words themselves.

“Yes,” Desmond agreed.

It didn’t have to be an eagle, really, but they associated themselves with eagles above all other animals. Ratonhnhaké:ton was the first of them to reach for the bird within, as he nestled atop the trees, high above the ground where they all felt the most comfortable.

They already had their second sight, but becoming  _ aware _ of the eagle within their minds was like an evolution of it. It made sense that they started calling their second sight  _ Eagle Vision _ after the animal they most associated with it.

“There is no eagle,” Altair said simply.

Desmond blinked at him, and then raised his eyebrows. “That probably didn’t sound the way you wanted it to,” he said wryly. “Explain, please?”

Altair exhaled sharply. It wasn’t irritation, just a loud thinking noise. “It- our second sight, our Eagle Vision, it’s such an  _ abnormal _ sense that it is like there is another consciousness attached to it. Not sentient, or sapient, but as if it had its own direction of thought.”

“Yes,” Desmond agreed.

When they focused and consciously chose to  _ pay attention _ to things, it was as if they were using their own senses regardless. But if they were to just activate their Eagle Vision, it would almost work without any conscious input. The colors would guide their senses and their eyes to whatever they needed.

For the most part, their Eagle Vision was like the culmination of all of their senses, amplified, and it worked as such. Other times, it was like there was someone, or something, that nudged them in the right direction.

“But there is no one else.  _ Nothing _ else,” Altair said. He raised his free hand to rub at his face, looking thoughtful. “It’s just- me. I watch the world in colored smoke, and have wings that lead me to you. The eagle that once existed within my head doesn’t react to outside influence any longer. I do.”

“Oh,” Desmond said softly. The thing was, that made  _ sense. _ They were so used to switching their Eagle Vision ‘on and off’ that having it constantly  _ on _ would be kind of overwhelming. Altair  _ would _ be distracted if he was dealing with overstimulation. Desmond smiled, and nudged Altair with his elbow. “Well, we already knew you were an eagle in human skin.”

Altair snorted. “Yes. It’s just- strange, and something I need time to get used to. But also, I don’t feel wrong, or even  _ different. _ I am Altair, son of Umar and Maud. Nothing has changed about me, except that everything  _ has.” _

“It’s a mental thing?” Desmond offered. “Is that why you feel- kind of separate, from us? Like you’re standing further away?”

Altair made a face, confused. “I feel that way?” he asked.

Desmond looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. We thought you were ignoring us at first.”

Altair stared at Desmond incredulously. “Why would I ignore you?”

“That’s what we thought!” Desmond exclaimed, “It’s why we realized that something  _ had _ changed after we defeated Al Mualim.”

“...I see,” Altair said, frowning in thought.

Desmond studied him. “So, you don’t feel that you’re standing apart? Or, as apart as we ever get.”

Which was to say, not at all. Most of the supposed disconnect between the eight of them was rather flimsy, all told. The fact that they were eight separate people with different personalities and characteristics was a result of how stubborn they were individually.

Altair shook his head. “No. We feel as connected as we always do. In fact, it almost feels like we are closer than we were.”

“You don’t sound so certain about that,” Desmond said.

Altair sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it. It honestly might just be a mental thing, with how heavily we are all leaning on each other right now.”

“That’s true,” Desmond said.

With how stressful the past few weeks had been for… quite a few of them, actually, they relied on each other to keep afloat. Especially with the most recent events, regarding dealing with the Animus and Al Mualim.

Like Ratonhnhaké:ton had said, they were all probably going to have a breakdown sooner instead of later. They could only put it off dealing with it for so long.

“You’ll figure it out,” Desmond said. He looked out the window. It was a really nice view, wasn’t it? “In the meantime, you need to go to bed.”

“Do I have to?” Altair asked.

“If you’re  _ asking _ me that, then you really definitely have to go to bed,” Desmond said amusedly, nudging Altair with his elbow again. “Come on, I still need sleep too, and we can pull in the others. I’m sure they’ll appreciate everything you just told me.”

Altair rolled his eyes, but followed Desmond as he led him to his room. Kadar would be there, and then Altair would definitely sleep. Malik probably also needed some company and some proper rest. He worked as hard as Altair, but didn’t have the benefit of having other people in his head to share the burden.

“You’ll figure it out too,” Altair said softly.

Desmond sighed. Altair wasn’t the only one with sudden responsibilities over Assassins. “Yeah. We both will.”

* * *

Desmond stretched in the white expanse of the Animus loading screen. He didn’t need to go through the motions, really, but this place was powered by the mind as much as it was by the programming. He was about to do something taxing, so he’d best stretch to prepare for it.

At least he looked like himself for the moment. It would be changing soon enough. Desmond was to enter whichever memories of an ancestor that Rebecca and Lucy found. He had the inkling that it would be Ezio, since he was the one that Desmond last entered the memories of, but it could be literally anyone.

...he was morbidly curious to see who of his other selves he might be descended from, because he felt like Rebecca and Lucy could find that out for him, but it was a double edged sword. Did he  _ really _ want to know?

Aveline stood next to him, stretching as well. She had free time today, and would be the one to see how they interacted with this new Animus. They needed to figure out if Desmond needed them to help him move forward like before. Hopefully not. They had faith in Rebecca and her skills. If someone needed to remain with Desmond, it  _ shouldn’t _ be as involved as it was in Abstergo.

_ “Alright, Desmond,” _ Rebecca called from her place at the top.  _ “We found the memories we were looking for.” _

“Who is it?” Desmond asked.

_ “Ezio Auditore da Firenze,” _ Lucy said.

Desmond and Aveline made a face at the pronunciation. It was recognizably Ezio’s name, but Lucy’s accent was… off. Maybe they were being a bit too judgmental? Not everyone had the ability to share languages. Or the correct accents, since Italy was still separated into city-states during the sixteenth century.

“Ezio Auditore da Firenze,” Desmond corrected, though. At least he knew what to expect with Ezio, for the most part. He was a little less private in his affairs compared to Altair, for all that they didn’t care much regarding each other. “I’ve got an Italian ancestor, huh,” he added, to cover his bases.

_ “You do,” _ Rebecca said cheerfully. Much too cheerfully for this early in the morning. But that might just be a ploy, since Desmond had watched her chug the coffee and redbull mix without flinching. One of the most horrifying things Desmond had seen recently.  _ “A pretty famous one, too. He’s one of the ones they mention when they’re training new recruits, alongside Altair.” _

Desmond and Aveline shared a glance, eyebrows raised. They knew that, since they lived several centuries after Ezio. But what  _ they _ knew, and how they interpreted history, was different than how others did.

“Give me a rundown?” Desmond requested.

_ “Ezio, alongside Altair, are considered two of the most historically important Assassins today,” _ Lucy said.  _ “I’m surprised you don’t actually recognize the name.” _

“I recognize him now that you mention him,” Desmond said, “But I know an Ezio, so I suppose I just… didn’t bother to remember.”

Like hell he actually forgot. Desmond was willfully ignorant, though. Besides, it was oftentimes hard to associate the legendary Mentor of the Brotherhood and founder of the Order of Assassins as it led to the modern day with…  _ Ezio. _ One of his other selves.

They were making plans  _ now _ regarding Ezio becoming Mentor, just as they had with Altair, but when Desmond was at the Farm? Nope. Ezio hadn’t learned of his family’s association with Assassins until after Desmond left. Therefore, they just didn’t bother with any of it.

_ “You know an Ezio?” _ Rebecca asked curiously.  _ “It’s not really a common name, nowadays. Assassin or otherwise.” _

“Yes,” Desmond said simply. Let them draw their own conclusions. They wouldn’t believe the truth anyways. “Remind me, then?”

Here, Hastings stepped in.  _ “Ezio Auditore, one of the most important Assassin figures in history, even if there’s practically no mention of him anywhere else. Par of the course regarding any Assassin, really, so it’s not a surprise.” _

“It is one of the tenants,” Desmond pointed out, amused.

_ “Indeed,” _ Hastings agreed dryly,  _ “Ezio was the Mentor of the Italian Brotherhood, and it was through his efforts that a lot of the key cities in Europe came under Assassin control for the next couple of centuries. He and his family ushered in what is commonly regarded as the Golden Age of Assassins.” _

“Wow,” Desmond said, with feeling. Laid out like that, and it seemed a lot more impressive.

“Well, we have something to strive for at least,” Aveline mused, “Though would it be placing too large of expectations on him when we already know he’s going to do it anyways?”

“Yeah, we’re ignoring the time travel aspect of it,” Desmond told her privately. “Too much of a headache.” Aveline nodded in agreement.

_ “We also know that he came into contact with several Pieces of Eden,” _ Lucy said,  _ “Though they’re not what we’re looking for here. Besides, if the Pieces affected Ezio just as they did Altair’s genetic memory, then those memories might be locked anyways.” _

_ “And we’re not doing that to you,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “We’re just going for what we need, and nothing else, promise.” _

“That’s good,” Desmond said. He felt relieved despite himself.

“The Templars did consolidate in Italy and the Vatican, as evidenced by their power within the actual Templar Knights during Altair’s time,” Aveline pointed out, “It makes sense that there would be numerous Pieces of Eden located in Italy.”

“So, you’re putting me in Ezio’s memories?” Desmond asked. “You have a time period in mind, or do I get to figure it out as we go?”

_ “We’ve found several memories that include free-running,” _ Lucy said,  _ “Which you’re already decent in, so it’s a good starting point.” _

_ “There is one thing,” _ Rebecca said, and she sounded hesitant.

Desmond frowned. That didn’t sound good. “What?”

_ “It’s like there’s a lock on all of his memories that go through one point first,” _ Rebecca said, and Desmond distantly heard her typing on her keyboard.  _ “I guess it was such a pivotal point in his life that literally everything we want access to sort of deals with it.” _

_ “I heard that trauma does that to a person,” _ Hastings said dryly,  _ “But- yes, it’s a memory that I believe shaped how Ezio viewed himself and the world around him.” _

_ “Yup. What memories we can access are either too early, or so late in life that we’d get nothing worthwhile from them,” _ Rebecca said. A pause, and then she said amusedly,  _ “unless you’re that interested in what Ezio’s retirement was like.” _

Desmond and Aveline shared a glance, uneasy. What? There wasn’t much of anything too terrible in Ezio’s life, was there?

At least, not in the life they shared so far. It might be later, but that wouldn’t make sense, either. If Lucy was serious about putting him in memories where Ezio went running over the roofs of Italy, then there’d be memories before his ‘now’ concurrently to them. All eight of them learned from La Volpe.

Though the mention of retirement was something to keep in mind. Jun had met Ezio before, but those memories were sort of… well, they were memories they forgot, much of like everything that could alter how they lived their lives in their individual present. Those that  _ knew _ of Ezio through history could remember more of it, especially Desmond since he was the furthest ahead of the eight of them, but even then it was hazy.

Most of what they remembered was Ezio’s wife and his children. The love that Jun saw on Ezio’s face sort of echoed through all of them, which made them that much more intent on finding his future love. Desmond wouldn’t mind going through the genetic memory, even briefly, for more of a hint on that.

“So, I have to go through this memory to do anything else?” Desmond asked, uneasy. Aveline reached out to take his hand. Neither of them wanted to watch Ezio go through something supposedly so horrible.

Though why they wouldn’t know it already was worrisome. That way led the idea that they  _ forgot _ about it, even beyond what they normally did. Which meant that they  _ couldn’t _ do anything about it. And  _ that _ was probably even worse than just going through the memory in the first place.

_ “Yes,” _ Lucy said, and she sounded regretful.  _ “But we’d rather start with Ezio, since we already have access to his memories. We could search for other ancestors, but we’re going for the easiest possible path first.” _

Desmond took a breath. The only way they would see what would happen would be to move forward. “Alright then. How do we do this?”

_ “Well, we’re going to place you in the loading screen first of all,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “get you acclimated to Ezio’s skin.” _

“I thought this was the loading screen?” Desmond asked.

He and Aveline made a face at each other. Yeah, the Animus was enough like a video game that words like  _ skin _ popped up, but there was something very… not right about referring to Ezio as a skin. Even if it fit, in more than one way.

_ “Nope, this is more like a waiting room,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “The programs used to put you into memories aren’t loaded, so there’s no need for the loading screen.” _

“Makes sense,” Desmond said.

_ “So, we’re going to switch you over to the actual program. I honestly have no idea how that’s going to be in the moment, but it shouldn’t be a problem,” _ Rebecca said.

Desmond made a face at the sky. “I am so glad to be your guinea pig,” he said dryly. Still, he didn’t bother with anything more. If Rebecca was trying it out on him, then it  _ was _ safe enough to use. She wouldn’t stand for anything less.

_ “You should be!” _ Rebecca said cheerfully,  _ “Much more humane than anything Abstergo does, right?” _

“Sure,” Desmond said amusedly. Not that was _ hard, _ mind.

_ “Alright you two,” _ Lucy said, somehow sounding both exasperated and amused,  _ “We’re going to get started now. In three, two, one…” _

The blank white expanse didn’t change visually, though he did notice a slight ripple. Desmond blinked, and he found himself in Ezio’s body. No, not  _ actually _ Ezio. The skin. A virtual representation of him, especially considering that he was shorter than he remembered.

“He must’ve been sixteen or seventeen for this memory,” Aveline said, frowning. She thumbed the scar on her lip, which both Ezio and Desmond had. “He doesn’t have the scar yet.”

Desmond made a face at her. “Please tell me I don’t have to relive getting hit in the face with a rock,” he complained privately. “It was bad enough the first time.”

“I don’t know,” Aveline shrugged, “I don’t think  _ that’s _ a memory that would be so scarring as to be necessary to view. But it might be in roughly the timeline?”

_ “You’re adapting rather well,” _ Rebecca said from above,  _ “Not that I’m surprised, really, but it’s nice to see.” _

Desmond shrugged. “It’s not so bad. But I’m not really doing anything right now, either.”

_ “Okay, move forward,” _ Lucy said, and he heard her typing.  _ “We’ll try something new. We’ll load the assets for the memory around you like this, until you hit that point where you’ll enter the actual memory. Hopefully it’ll ease the transition.” _

Desmond took a breath, and started walking. As he did, he watched as blank white walls came into being around him, taking shape from abstract shards of _ white. _

It was like watching glass break in reverse, and it was incredibly odd. Also pretty awesome to watch. There weren’t any colors yet, just the structure.

_ “We’re doing a quick obstacle course first,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “A way to pre-sync before the actual memory. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” _

“If you say so,” Desmond said, and jumped up. Everything was closer than his actual jump height and climbing ability, mimicking what Rebecca had done yesterday.

Next to him, Aveline followed easily. It was relaxing, the easy motion of it. The lack of  _ life _ in the surroundings was strange, but the movement was familiar. Stepping between footholds with easy jumps, or clinging to hand holds and swinging from them instead. It could be literally anywhere the eight of them were from.

It was very industrial in design at first. Flag poles and support beams over narrow alleys, much like the construction sites Desmond worked on. As they pressed forward, the buildings became lower set, and the poles became wooden in nature, much like how they were in Renaissance Italy. The transition was smooth, and Desmond almost didn’t notice it.

“Wow,” Aveline said in agreement with his thoughts when they reached a flat place to walk, “that was good.”

“Was that you Rebecca, or Lucy?” Desmond asked, looking around. “This is Italy, right? I almost didn’t notice.”

_ “A bit of a joint effort,” _ Rebecca said smugly.

_ “I’m glad you did notice, considering the difference,” _ Hastings said.

“I think it’d be that Rebecca and Lucy were better than me than my complete lack of observational skills,” Desmond said dryly.

_ “And we weren’t good enough?” _ Lucy said with amusement,  _ “Okay, I know I’m supposed to write reports to your parents, but now it’s actually kind of personal.” _

Desmond raised his eyebrows. “Okay, if that helps,” he said, and meant it.

Small steps, all in the name of getting Lucy free.

_ “Alright, your sync is high enough so far,” _ Rebecca said, bringing them back to the point.  _ “You should start approaching the start of the memory we have, if we planned things out right. But it’s not an exact science, so you might have to wander a bit.” _

“I’m good at wandering,” Desmond said, and moved forward. He and Aveline looked around, watching everything assemble itself. It was both so incredibly familiar and yet… not. If he hadn’t lived in Florence right alongside Ezio, he’d likely not have noticed. “How many assets do you have to match the memory?” he asked.

_ “Quite a bit,” _ Rebecca said proudly,  _ “But it’s still a computer program. I’m proud of what we’ve got, of course, but we’d need at least another decade of dedicated development to really accurately portray what life is at a realistic level. It’s a lot of repetitive asset use to get what you see right now.” _

_ “At least without slipping into uncanny valley,” _ Lucy added,  _ “There’s so many nuances to lifelike movement that we’re actually relying on your own perceptions to provide the movement of the NPC we have programmed in.” _

_ “Shaun actually helped with developing the textures for Renaissance Italy, though I did most of the rigging,” _ Rebecca said,  _ “We knew we’d be focusing on Ezio, so we put a lot towards it.” _

_ “Not all of them, mind,” _ Hastings input,  _ “But quite a bit. Let me tell you, I may be a historian but I am not that invested in clothes.” _

“Fashion history is human history,” Aveline said to Desmond, eyebrows raised. “Or at least a large facet of it.”

“I know that, you know that, and I have the feeling that  _ he _ knows that, but it’s probably still something he’s not as interested in,” Desmond pointed out.

“I wonder what his focus is?” Aveline mused, “If he’s in the Order, than he might have expanded what he researched for their benefit, but he had to start  _ somewhere. _ ”

“I can ask later,” Desmond said.

“You do that,” Aveline said imperiously, turning her nose up exaggeratedly at him. Desmond snorted.

Not a minute later, Desmond triggered the memory. Synching into it wasn’t as hard as it was in Abstergo, for which he was thankful. Aveline wasn’t necessary to be  _ there, _ smoothing out the aspects that Desmond still wasn’t exactly sure they did, but her presence helped. It stopped him from diving too deep in, where he would want to share  _ with _ Ezio what was obviously his life, much like that disastrous first attempt with Altair.

Something was  _ off, _ though. It was as if Ezio was the only person that existed. There was no mention of the others at all, even when they should be present. Like with Duccio. Desmond remembered that confrontation going a lot differently than it did.

At least the way Ezio got his scar was much the same, no matter that Desmond didn’t  _ like _ reliving that. Was what and how they  _ forgot _ things related to what their genetics recorded? Or was something up with the Animus?

Not that Desmond really had a way to ask. At least, not without revealing secrets he didn’t want to admit to. It was nowhere near time for that right now.

Desmond coasted along the memory, watching everything as it happened in real time. As it happened to Ezio in real time. He  _ felt _ the memories as if they were his own, much like with Altair.

Though the memories had differences he couldn’t explain away, either simply  _ differently _ or in the wrong order altogether. Desmond could only think that there were subtle differences between how he and Ezio remembered things. They shared much, but they also left each other to live their own lives for the most part. Some things might’ve gotten lost as time passed. Aveline, he felt, agreed with the theory from where she watched over him.

That was what they thought until Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio were arrested though, and they  _ remained _ in prison.

Desmond was confused, and his synch rate dropped to reflect that. He heard Lucy and Rebecca warn him about how close he was to desyncing. With Aveline’s help, he pushed forward, no matter how wary they were of the situation.

Something was not right. Desmond wished to pin the blame entirely on the Animus, but that wasn’t- that wasn’t entirely possible. Maybe some of it, but not  _ all, _ and Desmond was not in the habit of lying to himself.

He might’ve been in the habit of ignoring the obvious though.

Later, Desmond shook with horror as he watched the bodies of his  _ family _ swing from the noose, and wished he had left the memory much earlier.

0o0o0


	15. Chapter 15

Lucy watched in terror as Desmond  _ fell _ from the Animus seat, and threw up into the trash can at the side. Rebecca had put it there, a  _ just in case _ kind of thing, and Lucy was now very thankful that she had the foresight to do so.

“Desmond!” Lucy said, and rushed forward to help him. She knelt at his side.

Desmond said-  _ something, _ and Lucy stilled. She recognized it as Italian, but the dialect was all wrong. Lucy  _ knew _ Italian, had chosen it as one of her languages when she was a child. This was Italian, but it was incredibly outdated-

“Ezio?” Lucy said carefully, cautiously, hoping that he  _ wouldn’t _ answer positively.

Rebecca, who had grabbed a water bottle before coming over, froze. So did Shaun, who was waiting a little ways away with a sedative in case Desmond turned violent. Lucy didn’t think he would, but with Animus subject, you couldn’t be  _ too _ careful.

_ “Yes?” _ Desmond said in that same Italian, voice hoarse as if he had been screaming.

Which he had been, before he had forced himself out of the Animus. Rebecca barely got the IV out of the arm before he tore it out on his own in his fit.

“Are you-” Lucy bit her question off, her gut churning. If the Bleeding Effect brought forward the Ezio that had just watched his family get  _ hanged, _ then he was by no means  _ okay. _ “Can you stand?” she asked instead. Lucy bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat that in Italian.  _ Please _ let Desmond still understand English.

Desmond sat there, breathing heavily, for a long moment. He stared at her with wide eyes, like he looked  _ through _ her. Eventually, he nodded, and started to climb to his feet.

“Here, let me-” Lucy said, and helped him up.

He stumbled, but managed to land on the Animus chair instead of back onto the floor. Lucy nudged the trash can closer in case Desmond threw up again.

“Here,” Rebecca said, and held out the water bottle. “Rinse your mouth out, you’ll feel better.”

Desmond  _ looked _ at her as if doubting her sanity, but he took the water bottle. His hands were shaking but he managed to rinse his mouth out, spitting it into the trash can. Once he did that a couple of times, he drank heavily until the water bottle was almost empty.

_ “Thank you,” _ Desmond managed.

“Not a problem,” Rebecca said. She bit her lip and watched Desmond. “Desmond?”

Silence. Lucy and Rebecca shared a worried glance as Desmond just  _ sat _ there, non responsive. Thankfully he turned to Rebecca before the minute was up. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes tracked them easily.

“Are you good to move?” Rebecca asked.

Desmond shifted slightly, testing, before nodding. “Not far,” he said quietly.

Lucy let out a breath she didn’t know she held when she heard English. Accented English, but English all the same.

Rebecca smiled in relief. “That’s fine, we’ll help you. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

With that, Lucy and Rebecca helped Desmond walk to his bed, leaving Shaun to clean up after them. Desmond wobbled the entire way there, but he didn’t stumble. At the very least he wasn’t dead weight on them. But every time Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, his expression was distant.

Desmond wasn’t all the way present, and that worried Lucy greatly.

“We’ll check on you in an hour, see how you’re feeling then,” Rebecca said, setting another water bottle on the side table, and another trash can on the floor. “Just get some rest, okay?”

Desmond nodded and slipped his shoes off. He spent what energy he had to crawl under the covers and put his head on a pillow. He blinked at them, and then turned away, closing his eyes.

Lucy watched him for a moment before Desmond’s breathing evened out. She shared a glance with Rebecca, and then they quietly left the room.

Rebecca let out a hissed breath when they left the room. She stalked forward to wrap Shaun in a tight hug. “Fuck.”

“Did that happen before?” Shaun asked Lucy, letting Rebecca cling to him.

Lucy hesitated, remembering. “Nothing as bad as that, but there was- when we escaped, when I had him sync to grab the data? He had a bad reaction then.”

And then there was the possibility that he experienced hallucinations even prior to that. Lucy still wasn’t sure about that.

“Yeah, you said he cried and got a bloody nose,” Rebecca said, pulling away from Shaun. “He looked  _ terrible. _ But he didn’t throw up then?”

“No,” Lucy said, and shook her head, “Nor did he Bleed badly enough to confuse who he was. He’s been having language issues, but…”

There was a rather big leap from confusing which language he spoke in to thinking that he was Ezio. It was a rather extreme reaction, too. And Desmond had been doing so well… was it because they lowered their defenses that this seemingly came out of left field?

Damn, but Lucy really wasn’t looking forward to writing the reports to either Warren  _ or _ William about this.

“It might’ve just been this particular memory,” Shaun said, frowning as he looked to the bedroom door. He very much was still coming to terms with Desmond as a person. Lucy didn’t envy him that. “We did explain that Ezio’s memories were trauma locked. We didn’t expect this kind of negative reaction, but trauma rarely plays fair.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Lucy agreed ruefully.

Rebecca glanced at Lucy. “Did- did Sixteen have a reaction this negative this quickly?” she asked hesitantly.

Lucy stifled her reaction at the mention of Clay. “...No,” she said, thinking back. “It was a gradual descent, all told,” she admitted.

Until it wasn’t, and became a plunge. And Lucy hated herself for it, and regretted how her decisions hurt others. But she  _ had _ made her decision and refused to back down then.

She should probably refuse to back down still, especially since she was a Templar now. But Lucy wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself, and found that meeting Desmond  _ changed _ things. She didn’t think he was entirely aware of it, for all that he worked to maneuver them just as readily as they worked on him.

It was possible that he was just doing it to get her to trust him, to help him even against her orders, but Lucy didn’t think so. Desmond looked to Lucy and saw  _ Lucy, _ and held out a hand to her. Maybe in the beginning it was just to protect himself, but  _ now _ Desmond decided to keep his hand out regardless.

There was still a lot that Lucy didn’t know. And she refused to make another decision without all of the facts, especially one this life changing. But wasn’t it still something, that she entertained the idea of it? To ask Desmond for his help to  _ leave? _

Still, despite everything else surrounding their situation, Lucy was team leader. She had a job to do. And Lucy never backed down from her responsibilities.

“Come on,” Lucy said, sighing heavily, and led them to the kitchenette where the cheap beer was held. They all needed a drink at this point. “We can’t terminate this mission, but we still need to discuss how this impacts our move forward.”

Rebecca and Shaun grimaced, but followed her anyway.

Lucy had missed them, she really did.

* * *

Desmond gripped Ezio closer, half on top of him. The pair of them were at the bottom of a pile comprised of their other selves. Neither of them could be anywhere else right now.

With Ezio’s family at least a week’s journey away at the moment, Ezio needed all the contact he could get. They would prepare to move later, when they calmed down. None of them would truly relax until they could see Ezio’s family on their own.

Fuck, but they  _ remembered _ now, what Jun had learned with the elderly Ezio she spent those few days with. His appearance. The love for Sofia and the children. What he spoke of.

Why did they forget? It was in the past for all of them at that point.  _ Why? _

Not important right now. What was important was Ezio, reminding him that  _ this _ was their reality.  _ This _ was the world that his family still existed in. That, though they currently lived in different cities, Ezio could leave  _ right now _ to travel to see them. What Desmond’s genetics said was not the truth of what happened.

Desmond pressed closer, and with the others, worked to bring themselves all to an even keel.

* * *

Things… settled, somewhat, by the time that Rebecca came to check on them. Not entirely, but enough. They balanced on the edge of a knife point, but at least they weren’t unresponsive like they were before.

And they  _ were _ they, for now. Things were still too raw for them to be anything else at the moment. It might cause problems, it might not. They didn’t care much about the potential consequences as much as they cared about keeping each other steady.

“Desmond?” Rebecca called, knocking gently on the door. “You awake?”

They turned over to look to the door. Rebecca was there, quiet and unobtrusive, and  _ blue. _ They probably wouldn’t react very well to anyone  _ red _ right now. It was probably good that Lucy wasn’t the one to come and get them.

“Yes,” they said, managing to speak in English.

That was something else that they would have to worry about later. They had a convenient excuse in the Bleeding Effect at least. Either way, that was a future worry. It was also something they had to discuss when they felt up to the task.

“You didn’t drink any more water,” Rebecca said, looking to the water bottle. She frowned at them, but it was a very  _ quiet _ sort of frown. They weren’t sure that they weren’t supposed to see it at all. “Drink, okay? You’ll feel better.”

They stared at her, before quirking their lips at her. Rebecca knew exactly what she meant when she said  _ better. _ Because  _ better _ was by no means  _ good _ , or even  _ okay _ . And, yeah, drinking some water would probably make them feel better. They threw up their breakfast earlier.

It took more effort than it should have to sit up and reach for the water bottle. It wasn’t that they were physically weak, no. It was more like their limbs refused to listen to them properly. Their body was fine, but their mind was bruised.

Still, they did. They sat up, and drank some water. And they  _ did _ feel better. It was- nice, yeah, to have Rebecca there, watching over them. Sure, maybe in the back of her mind part of her care was because they were part of her job. But there was genuine  _ care _ there, and it was  _ nice. _ Nice to have someone looking out for them right now.

“Thanks,” they said.

“It’s not a problem Desmond,” Rebecca said, smiling at them, “I promise.”

“...what’s going to happen right now?” they asked after a moment.

“You get to rest until mid-day, at least,” Rebecca said, and sighed. “We have stuff that we can do that doesn’t require the Animus. But since that’s the entire reason our team was assigned to this case, we’ll have to talk about what we’re going to do.”

They pressed their lips together at that. But they saw the point of it. They didn’t  _ like _ it, but they understood.

“Okay,” they agreed, and sighed. They really didn’t want to deal with anything regarding that right now.

“Yeah, I know,” Rebecca said to their unspoken words, and smiled wryly. “Drink more water, and rest. I’ll grab something easy for you to eat.”

They nodded, and watched Rebecca as she left the room. Then they climbed back under the covers.

* * *

They were Assassins, and Templars, and all the combinations thereof that could be applied to them. If they couldn’t adapt, they would have died years ago. So, despite the pain, despite the desperation, and the fear, eventually they got bored of wallowing in their own pity.

Not, of course, that they forgot. They had long memories and could hold a grudge with the best of them. But it meant that they wiped their tears, slapped some salve on their bruised minds and hearts, and moved forward regardless.

Oh, they could tell that they still had a few breakdowns in their future as the stress of the recent weeks continued to pile up, but this release did help a lot.

Desmond sat up in bed, and reached for the water bottle and the bowl of oatmeal Rebecca left behind for them. It was all room temperature now, but it was easy to drink and easy to eat.

They each were in a place of relative safety, and looked to their individual selves first. They had the comforting and constant presence as a bolstering reminder. One couldn’t complete their work to the best of their ability if they didn’t take care of themselves first.

It was easy to go to Elise, who had the most privacy of them all at the moment. Arno had been taking care of them, having found Elise collapsed in their office. Arno would warn them if anyone came near, or if anything urgent came up.

“The easiest way to see all of your family again would be to send letters to bring them all back to Florence,” Elise said, arms wrapped around Ezio.

“The Medici still favor the Auditore. It has been a while since you have all been together, so no one will think it odd for you all to return,” Aveline added.

“Then that is what I will do, and move to visit Florence myself,” Ezio said. They sighed and held Elise tighter. “To see my father and Petruccio will ease most of my worries, even if Federico will not be there so soon.”

“And to bring your family together  _ would _ be wonderful,” Evie said. They smiled wistfully. “It’s been some time since we’ve seen them all.”

“It would,” Desmond agreed, and pressed closer to Ezio. “Shame it took something like this to prompt us heading over, but the end justifies the means, I guess?”

Ezio snorted and shoved at Desmond. “Shut up.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton sighed theatrically. “Children,” they said, as if they weren’t literally speaking about their other selves.

Ezio rolled their eyes and Elise reached out to shove Ratonhnhaké:ton. “You shut up too!”

They all sighed in relief at the release of tension. Right. Now to get onto the conversation that they needed to have.

“We don’t exist in the same timeline,” Desmond said.

“No,” Jun said quietly, “We do not.”

“And yet we  _ know _ each other still,” Altair said, “Jun and the Ezio they met found nothing that suggested that they did not.”

“Except of what we just learned,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, and gripped their necklace. “If it weren’t for the age difference that warped our connection inward, Jun might have let Ezio know.”

“As it was, I very carefully did not react at that time,” Jun said. They frowned, “And the thing that makes us forget what we  _ know _ of each other made me forget that as well.”

“Well, we remember now,” Desmond said dryly. “But- there’s also something else about my genetic memory that we learned.” They turned to them expectantly.

“That Ezio didn’t have  _ us,” _ Aveline said. They all grimaced. No one could even  _ comprehend _ that kind of existence at this point. “None of the memories lined up. Even if the Animus couldn’t recreate us to be seen, nothing happened in the few memories we saw leading up to  _ that one _ matched what we remembered.”

“How so?” Altair asked.

“Well, our confrontation with Duccio went differently, that’s for certain,” Desmond said, shrugging.

“Ugh,  _ that _ bastard,” Ezio said, and shuddered. “Did it still go well?”

“I think so,” Aveline said. “Claudia seemed pleased, at least. Though we weren’t paying as much attention as we could have.”

“That’s good,” Ezio said flatly, expression distant as they remembered what  _ they _ had done to Duccio. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.

Then again,  _ Duccio _ didn’t deserve pleasantries. Like, at all. He was kind of a scumbag.

“Why is it different, then?” Evie asked, tapping their chin in thought. “Jun and Ezio met, and confirmed that he  _ did _ have other selves, even if things happened differently for  _ that _ group compared to ours. But Desmond is descended from an Ezio that did  _ not _ have us, even if his timeline sounds like it matched up with the Ezio that Jun met.”

“I met Aveline, who for all appearances, seemed exactly like  _ our _ Aveline if only a decade older,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. They frowned. “Though, now that I am thinking about it, despite sharing what seemed to be everything that  _ we _ do, the way she spoke…”

Aveline blinked at them, and followed their train of thought. It wasn’t hard, and they started remembering what Ratonhnhaké:ton was now thinking of. “...I do not think we can confirm it, not without meeting myself again, but it sounded as if she had  _ not _ found out the identity of the Company Man yet.”

“When we had dealt with Madeleine and the Templars earlier this year,” Altair said. They frowned and turned to Desmond. “Did the memories you live through as me have  _ us _ in them?”

Desmond hesitated, and thought. “...No, not really. But that Animus was… awkward. Not as well developed. I lived through those memories, but it was- hard. Blurry at some points. We worked so hard on just staying synched at  _ all _ that other than a few key points everything is… not good?”

Evie and Elise shared a glance, and reached out to grab each other’s hands. They closed their eyes and  _ focused. _ As the pair that held the most interest in research and learning about things for the sake of  _ learning, _ they had the best recall of the eight of them. Together they could almost remember things in picture-perfect detail.

“...Nothing,” Evie and Elise said, opening their eyes to look at them.

“There are no mentions or possibilities that the Altair that we lived through had other selves, much like the Ezio,” Evie said.

“And, what Lucy and Vidic spoke about when they discussed Altair was… off, from what we know of him,” Elise added. “We thought it was because of the time difference, as well as the fact that they are Templars. But with everything…”

“We can’t know for  _ certain,” _ Evie stressed, “But it’s all pointing to the fact that those memories belong to an Altair that we don’t know either.”

Desmond bit their lip. That did make the most sense. But… “If the Altair and the Ezio that I am descended from did not have other selves as we do, then why did the Ezio Jun meet have them? As well as the Aveline that Ratonhnhaké:ton met?”

They all paused as they realized what they meant. There was…  _ something _ in that thought. Like reading a book only to find that the words were in a language they didn’t know. The information was there, but it was also so very far away.

“If…” Jun started, “If we take that  _ thing _ that makes sure that we do not remember each other outside of when we discuss our futures and our pasts, and apply it to our situation…” they trailed off, frowning.

“It did not allow us to remember what you learned with Ezio,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said, “So we must assume that it works to make sure we meet with as little resistance in  _ not  _ remembering anything.”

“The memory loss isn’t fool proof,” Altair pointed out, “Desmond, especially, is always more aware of our futures than we are. They cannot speak of it to us, but they do not  _ forget _ the way that we do.”

“Neither does Elise and I,” Evie said, motioning between them. “Or you. Because you write in your Codex what we learn, even when normally anyone else would forget.”

“I would assume,” Desmond said slowly, sounding the thought out, “that it is  _ because _ we do not meet with any of you in our time. There is little to impact when compared to Ezio and Jun, or Ratonhnhaké:ton and Aveline.”

Elise frowned. “I am in the same time frame as Aveline and Ratonhnhaké:ton, but we are separated by an ocean. If I were to just, get up  _ now _ and travel to the Americas, I could meet with them. And we would  _ know _ each other, because we share our minds and hearts. But if I chose to ever  _ not _ do that, to refrain, then…”

“Then it is possible that the versions of us that would exist then do  _ not _ have us,” Aveline said.

Desmond groaned and put their head in their hands. “Fucking time travel.”

Another pause as they all agreed with that sentiment.

“It’s not just time travel, though, is it?” Altair asked after a moment. They shrugged when they all looked to them. “It’s timelines. Space, not just time.”

“Because we perceive the time of day as the same, too,” Ezio said in realization. “It’s why we can all use Desmond’s timekeeping devices, no matter that time zones are a thing.”

“And that what  _ we, eight, _ have experienced together is different than  _ they, eight, _ as well as the individual selves have experienced,” Desmond said.

“The Ezio I have met has experienced the same tragedy that the Ezio Desmond is descended from has, but still shares themselves with  _ us,” _ Jun said.

“And the Aveline that I met is still working through the issues that we resolved recently,” Ratonhnhaké:ton added.

“But we and our timelines still influence each other,” Evie pointed out. “Altair’s Codex is one such thing. We learn together what we were all taught, some of which came from that Codex. And what is in that Codex, Altair will write what they learned from  _ us. _ Not what they could glean for themselves through life, but what  _ we, eight, _ have specifically come up with. And those things are then part of what we learned as it was passed down to us.”

That was true. Like the new hidden blades, that did not require taking the ring finger off. Or the hidden pistol attachment that Ezio found the designs for. Or the hidden crossbow, which was lost to time, even as enough information remained for the French Assassins to remake. Several free running techniques that those in the Holy Land would have no reason to learn. A few martial arts moves that originated in China, or in Latin America. They were all things that they learned and gave to Altair to transcribe.

“Something has  _ caused _ this,” Altair stated.

They turned to them. They sounded so sure of themselves, as if stating a  _ truth. _ Yet Altair looked as startled as the rest of them that they spoke at all.

“What do you mean?” Desmond asked.

Altair frowned, and ran their hands along each other. It was a thinking motion, and one they used to keep themselves calm. “...I don’t know,” they said slowly, “But it is still  _ true.” _

They all felt their certainty. Their confusion at  _ why _ they said that still remained, but so did their utter belief that they stated fact.

“Do you think it’s the Apple?” Aveline asked, “Or Those Who Came Before?”

“Why would they have anything to do with this?” Elise asked, frowning. They looked off to the side in thought. “The Pieces of Eden are powerful artefacts, but none so great as to alter both space and time the way that  _ we _ do just by existing.”

“From everything that we’ve gathered, they simply did not care about humanity,” Evie added, sighing. “If we look to the Bible and its story of Creation, and what we found out from the Prophecy Disc, humanity had to  _ rebel _ to be free. If Those That Came Before did leave anything behind, then it is nothing that was meant to help us.”

“Such as the Apple,” Altair said, and rubbed at their arms. “I… we still do not know what it did, beyond finding me  _ acceptable, _ though it strained enough to force me into unconsciousness. We do not know if it was meant to harm us, or help us.”

“That is not how any records of the Apple show it acts,” Elise said, tapping their thighs as they recalled everything they had read about the Apple, “Nor was it how we observed Al Mualim acting with it.”

“If whatever worked to bring our timelines together did so, then it is likely it also touched whatever Pieces of Eden we would come in contact with,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

“And if truly someone, or something, is what caused us all to meet, then it is a  _ good thing, _ and meant as a gift,” Ezio said, nodding resolutely. “We are not bad, nor are we meant in some grand plan to befall  _ anything _ not of our choosing.”

“We are  _ not,” _ They all said fiercely in agreement.

* * *

“Desmond?” Lucy called, knocking on the bedroom door.

It was nearing dinner time, which seemed plenty of time to let Desmond resettle. She’d have spoken with him much sooner if Rebecca hadn’t told her to  _ wait. _ And the way that Rebecca had bitten her lip, thinking something over- well. Lucy, despite her impatience, waited.

Very little went  _ right _ if anyone ignored Rebecca when she got that expression on her face.

“Lucy?” Desmond replied, and she breathed in relief when she heard the strong and steady American accent.

“I’m coming in,” she said, and opened the door, hoping-

Good. Desmond wasn’t in bed anymore. Instead, the bed had been made, and Desmond sat on the edge of it. The water bottle was empty, and the cereal eaten. Desmond’s eyes looked clear and he watched her studying him with a steady gaze. He had his shoes on again. All in all, he looked much better than before.

Lucy smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Desmond snorted. “That’s a word for it,” he said wryly. “Did you need something?”

For him to get back in the Animus, really, but that wasn’t something she could say right now.

“I just came to check up on you,” Lucy said, with all that implied. Desmond didn’t visibly react, but she could  _ feel _ his disapproval. She once again wondered what he did in New York City to hear everything she  _ wasn’t _ saying. If Lucy didn’t know better, she’d think he’d never left the Assassins in the first place. “It’s almost dinner time. I just wanted to ask if we needed to get you something to eat or not.”

Desmond made a face at her. “No, no you don’t. I’m making dinner because for some reason, I feel like I can’t trust you with that. Not after all the takeout.”

This time, Lucy smiled in honest relief. Because if Desmond continued to make food like last night’s dinner all of the time, she might honestly fall in love.  _ “Thank _ you.”

Desmond stood up, and stretched his arms over his head. “Not a problem, really. And we can talk about what we’re going to do after, okay?”

“Okay,” Lucy agreed.

There were, after all, only a few more days until Warren’s first check up. Lucy needed more data than she currently had to make this worth it. If Project Siren didn’t pan out, Lucy was well aware of how disposable she was.

Besides, she’d rather like more data on what  _ she’d _ been working on for the past several years too. Lucy was self aware enough to admit that some of her own pride was at stake here.

0o0o0


	16. Chapter 16

Dinner was necessary, after.

For one, Desmond needed to be distracted. He chose a meal that was more complicated than it needed to be for that purpose. Second, food made it easier to have serious conversations and he had one coming up soon. People underestimated just how important proper food and rest was for making decisions. Thirdly, Desmond just needed something to do to help settle down.

“We need to figure out what exactly we’re doing,” Evie said, watching him work. The knife work was soothing, especially with these knives. In hiding and with cheaper supplies they may be, but they were Assassins. The knives were lovely.

“For now, we’re negotiating how long we need to be in the Animus. Again.” Desmond said.

“And you’re certain about heading back in?” Aveline asked.

It wasn’t a rhetorical question. They made the initial decision earlier, yes, but it was still a big one. Up until they actually spoke with Lucy, Rebecca, and Hastings, it was still up in the air. They would throw the idea back and forth until they were tired of it. A properly debated idea had a more solid base than an impulsive one. Not that impulsive ideas didn’t have their place, mind. This just didn’t happen to be one of them.

“No,” Desmond said wryly. “I certainly don’t want to. But there are reasons both  _ to _ and not to, and right now the reasons not to won’t really hold up in this situation.”

“Especially if we want to know what the Templars are seeking from my memories,” Ezio said grimly. “They’re after the Pieces of Eden, yes, but we don’t know any more than that. What, exactly, will I be seeing in the future that they would send you here for it?”

“The Assassins are likely seeing it as circumventing what the Templars want,” Altair said, shoulder pressed against Aveline, resting his head on Ratonhnhaké:ton, who stood behind him. “The Templars want the Pieces of Eden. And the ones Ezio will come in contact with must be rather important if they are willing to set up this farce in the first place.”

The farce being that the Templars  _ let _ Desmond and Lucy escape. Oh, there definitely was truth in there. The threat from Vidic, and from Rikkin, yes. Even what exactly they were planning. But everything else? Desmond knew that they were being monitored, and Lucy was sending them mission reports about what they did.

“And providing incentive to move quickly with Vidic so close by,” Elise said, grimacing. She despised Vidic, even compared to them. Probably because she spent the most time interacting with him, to hide Desmond’s own truths. “We’re hiding, but we  _ will _ be found. And since Vidic is the one in charge of the Animus, and the Templar we’ve interacted with the most, it’s going to be him we’re seeing.”

“Do you think we could get away with killing him?” Desmond asked.

“That’d be nice,” Elise said wistfully. Yeah, she really didn’t like him. “But it depends on what we want to happen after. The Templars have the most power here, and this is only a four man cell. If we kill him, we’d have to decide if killing a powerful Templar would be worth the hassle of the Templar Order coming after us.”

Desmond grimaced. That was true. But it would make him feel better. “Ugh, okay.”

“You’ll likely be the one to kill him in the end anyways,” Evie said, shrugging.

“Really?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.

Evie grinned and Desmond winced at the gleeful humor he felt there. “Of course. You’re life is like a movie, Desmond. The final confrontation with Vidic is right up there with the rest of the tropes you embody.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” Desmond groaned.

“Because you quite literally didn’t have a choice?” Jun offered from her spot on the counter.

“Sometimes I really hate you guys,” Desmond muttered.

At least the banter was comforting. It made it easier to focus on the reality of here and now, instead of what happened that morning. It could just be a regular evening, Desmond making dinner and speaking with his people. Except for literally everything else going on at the moment, of course.

Desmond sighed. He loved his other selves, and he loved spending time with them. But they only ever gathered all together like this when there was a  _ situation _ . Usually they only visited in smaller groups.

“It’s nice,” Evie agreed, having heard his thought process. She was the one most aware of their individual minds. “But we do associate being together like this with some sort of trauma, don’t we?”

“Because it’s situations like these when we  _ need _ all of us together,” Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed out. “I can assure you, I’ll be needing you soon enough, with the war going on.” Not to mention the times prior that they  _ did _ all spend at his side.

“And me,” Elise added glumly. Yeah, she had the Templar coup going on, didn’t she? As well as the French Revolution that was coming up. It was obvious at this point, especially since Desmond and Evie could tell her it was coming and Elise  _ remembered. _

“Should I be glad we got the worst of my issues out of the way, then?” Altair asked dryly.

Aveline snorted. “With the whole Apple thing, you’re an ongoing issue for the foreseeable future,” she said just as dryly.

“Well, you’re in good company,” Desmond said, motioning to the rest of the hideout.

“Why are our mid-twenties just so collectively awful?” Aveline said. “At least Ezio, Evie, and Jun had their big revelations when they were teenagers. And not even all at once.”

“I dunno, Evie and Jun were dealing with their issues pretty much at the same time,” Desmond said. “In hindsight it felt more separate?” he offered.

“It was also less people,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said. “Now we’re dealing with myself, Desmond, Altair, Elise. And Aveline from earlier this year.”

“Being an adult is hard, apparently,” Jun said deadpan.

“Look at me, being a responsible adult,” Desmond snorted, nodding to his cooking. “I’m cooking, I’m sleeping, I’ve apparently got an eight-to-five job right now.”

“You’re doing so well for yourself, sweetheart,” Evie drawled, sniffing and wiping a tear from her eye. “All grown up and making responsible decisions.”

That set off a round of laughter. Desmond bit his lip to limit himself to a bright smile. No need to bring attention to himself. At least the kitchenette was a bit more private than being in the central area. Though he could  _ feel _ the attention from the others as dinner started to smell better and better.

“Desmond?” Rebecca asked, leaning in the doorway. She watched the stovetop intently, an almost predatory gaze as she saw the food. “Is dinner almost done?”

Desmond looked it over. He was only reducing the moisture, so pretty much. “Almost. Go grab some plates and forks, please?”

In an impressive display of speed and agility, Rebecca sped through the kitchen and around Demond to where they kept the dinnerware. Ezio stepped out of the way before she could run  _ through _ him. It didn’t feel much like anything, really, but it was still pretty weird, so they tended to avoid it when possible.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry,” Desmond said, watching Rebecca. He turned the small stove off, and threw away everything he set aside previously. Proper clean up would come after. But, just because Desmond wouldn’t be cleaning didn’t mean he had to leave a mess.

Rebecca looked at him seriously. “Desmond, you have no idea what we have been eating.”

“Take out is not that bad,” Desmond said, and moved everything for easy access. He was  _ not _ serving dinner, thank you. Everyone could come to grab dinner on their own.

“Like I said,” Rebecca said, “You have  _ no idea. _ I think I might be mildly traumatized. If I knew you would be cooking for us, I’d have led the extraction team myself.”

“I’m intrigued, but I’m not certain I really want to know,” Ezio observed.

“I think I’d either be disappointed or traumatized myself if I learned the truth,” Aveline mused.

“Go tell the others dinner’s ready,” Desmond said.

“On it, Boss!” Rebecca saluted, and then went to the doorway to yell to the others. “Hey, dinner’s ready!”

Desmond grabbed a plate and served himself. He turned around and saw Lucy and Hastings already waiting in line. “Wow, you are  _ really _ hungry.”

“Yes.” Lucy said seriously. She gave him a once over to check his well being, but then turned her attention to the food. Hastings nodded once at him, and then ignored him entirely. This time, Desmond was pretty sure it wasn’t  _ just _ because of him.

“I’ll leave it to you,” Desmond said amusedly, and went to go find a seat in the main room. No need to stay between Assassins and their food. He looked to his other selves. “I suppose you guys should go grab something to eat as well.”

Altair tilted his head, listening to his surroundings in Masyaf. “Yes. I get the feeling that either Malik or Kadar will be making me eat soon enough.”

Desmond shrugged. “I’ll still be here. If the conversation gets weird or serious I’ll call everyone back, yeah?”

“Okay, dinner break then,” Evie stretched her arms above her head.

“See you soon,” Desmond said, and watched his other selves all blink back to their own bodies. Elise would take care of Ezio, and they could go to who needed the most company. Or they might bring themselves back to Desmond.

Either way, they kept a mental eye on each other. It was like eating dinner with them just behind him. He couldn’t see them, but they were definitely there. Desmond wanted to cling, and cling tight, especially to Ezio.

Desmond sighed and ate his food.

* * *

“So.” Desmond said, sitting on the edge of the Animus and watching the others. Dinner was over with, and they had cleaned up. Leftovers were put in the fridge for midnight snacks or for breakfast, whichever happened first.

Lucy kept an eye on him, but Rebecca and Hastings almost avoided looking at him. At least Rebecca had the excuse of focusing on her programming at the moment. Hastings wasn’t even working at his computer properly.

Desmond raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me.”

“Have one breakdown and they treat you as if you’re made of spun glass,” Evie said, and rolled her eyes. She munched on some jerky. “How do they treat their own when it’s not Animus induced?”

“It’s most likely guilt,” Jun pointed out. “They are the ones that put you in the Animus.”

Desmond sighed heavily. “Seriously guys, we can’t have a proper conversation if you can’t even look at me.”

“Right,” Lucy said, turning in her chair to look at him. She studied him, likely making note of his appearance and general well being. “How are you?”

“I still feel like shit, thank you,” Ezio snorted, and leaned heavily into Elise’s shoulder. Desmond carefully made sure not to wince; yeah, they were moving easily, but that echo of trauma wasn’t so easily ignored.

“Stable, if that’s what you mean,” Desmond offered. He rubbed his arm. “I suddenly know  _ way _ more Italian swears than I did yesterday, but I’m taking that as a positive right now.”

Ezio grinned at him, the ass. But yeah, the Bleeding Effect did bring forward all the proper Italian usually needed in that kind of situation. Desmond wasn’t certain if he could speak Italian properly without sharing, but he definitely  _ knew _ how to swear now.

Rebecca blinked at him, and a slow smile spread as she registered that. “Ooh,” she said, and rubbed her hands together. Hastings shot her a glare, and she winced exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, serious stuff first. But you’re teaching me those later, Des.”

“Sure?” Desmond said amused. “You want me to teach you how to curse in Spanish too? Swearing in Spanish is way more fun.  _ And _ what I know is modern too.”

Rebecca lit up. “Yes. I’ll pay you back in German swearing.”

“Deal,” Desmond nodded seriously at her, which Rebecca returned.

Hasting huffed. “If we could  _ please _ get back to the matter at hand.”

“How are you feeling, Desmond?” Lucy asked again.

Desmond thought about it. “Like shit, but it’s more background radiation of my life right now instead of something I need to worry about. Stable, not likely to have another breakdown in the near future.”

“Food and sleep,” Rebecca said wisely. “Might not make you okay, but it’ll definitely make you better.”

“It makes me more willing to work towards being okay,” Desmond sighed. He looked to Lucy. “So, what are we doing now?”

Lucy bit her lip. “We still need you in the Animus,” she said.

“I gathered,” Desmond said, shrugging. “But we’ve got to do something different if you want me to go back in.”

“I’ve been refining the code we’ve got since this morning,” Rebecca said. It wasn’t her fault, but Desmond could see her acting and working as if it were. “It’s easier to enter and exit the Animus. And with the usual acceleration of time, we can totally give you more breaks.”

“That’s something,” Desmond agreed. “But what memories are we diving into?”

“The ones we wanted you to head into in the first place,” Hastings said, rolling his shoulders. “With the one trauma-locked memory out of the way, we can access everything we wanted to originally.”

“Parkour and free running,” Lucy nodded. She looked Desmond over. “We can even shorten the time somewhat so we can put what you learn to the physical test. We’re training you, and we may as well see how you develop outside of the Animus.”

“The  _ Animus.” _ Ratonhnhaké:ton breathed, twitching in place. Desmond glanced at him, startled himself at the somewhat extreme reaction from him. Ratonhnhaké:ton looked to the others, something like revelation in his eyes. “They’re using the Animus to  _ train _ you. Just like-”

Aveline hissed a breath. “Like all of those Animus we saw in Abstergo. We were confused as to why there were so many. But if-”

“If they are using them to train their own, it means they are training them to fight Assassins,” Ezio finished grimly. Especially if they had taken both Sixteen’s and Desmond’s genetics for their own. That was at least two confirmed Assassins they had access to, nevermind all the generations Desmond held.

“Seventeen test subjects to refine the knowledge for their own,” Jun said and ran her hand through her hair. “They are not stupid. They wanted the information in your memories to find the Pieces of Eden. They just were able to use it for more than the one purpose.”

“Desmond?” Lucy asked, brow furrowed.

He turned back to her, aware that they had  _ seen _ him startle. Well, they already thought he was hallucinating. “Sorry, just remembered something. You said parkour, right? Where are we going to do that here?”

“Not much without leaving, and we can’t do that right now,” Lucy sighed. “But we do have enough height here to learn how to fall properly.”

Desmond couldn’t help it. He snorted. “I know how to fall properly. It’s one of the few things I made sure to keep up, especially when I started working.” Nevermind that Desmond was one of the best free runners of the eight of them, with as often as he ran about in New York.

Lucy blinked at him, and then nodded slightly. “Still, we will see where you are, and where you go after.” She smiled slightly. “I’m not going to lie. I’m also interested as someone who’s worked on the Animus for the past several years.”

“Professional curiosity, huh?” Desmond asked. Well, she wasn’t lying.

“Stick to basic stuff until Vidic arrives,” Altair said, watching Lucy. “What could be reasonably explained as your own experience and what you learn from the Animus. We don’t know where Lucy will take us after. We may or may not have more freedom to act.”

“We can start tomorrow,” Rebecca offered. “I’ve got some things I want to finish up for my Baby, and some things to discuss with Desmond regarding his own equipment.”

Lucy nodded. “We can wrap up our own projects we put on hold when Desmond came here. We’re running behind our projected timescale, but well.” She smiled amusedly at Desmond, and shrugged. Despite her relaxed presentation, Desmond could see how upset that actually made her. “Unforeseen circumstances and all.”

“We really need to speak with her as well,” Elise said worriedly. “I think Lucy understands just how expendable she is to those higher up in the food chain.”

“Okay then,” Desmond said slowly, watching them. “We can start tomorrow.”

* * *

“Here you go,” Rebecca said. She handed Desmond a phone.

Desmond turned it over in his hands. It was an older iPhone, likely a few years old. As expected, really. For one, it meant the casing was more durable. Secondly, it made modifying it that much easier. And since it was an older model, it was more forgettable.

“What’d you do to it?” Desmond asked. He weighed it carefully. He wasn’t certain without an actual iPhone to compare it to, but it felt heavier than he expected. Hardware upgrade then.

“A total upgrade, duh,” Rebecca grinned. “For one, it has way more storage and processing power. Granted, most of that goes to the security, but it  _ does _ connect to the satellite network.”

“Hephaestus,” Desmond murmured.

He remembered, now, though it did take a night of thinking it over. While the Hephaestus Network was their  _ email _ network, it wasn’t the entire thing. It was just that the email network was what  _ remained _ after the last Mentor died. Or at least what the Assassins had access to afterwards.

Hephaestus was the near unhackable Assassin network. It had been created when the internet was in its infancy. Almost alongside it, in fact, since Assassins were the ones to help create the internet in lieu of Abstergo.

And the email network was simultaneously the most secure and the  _ least _ secure of it all. It was primarily text based, with very little allocated to images. Ami, Erudito, and likely Abstergo all had their fingers in the email network, that was how open it was.

But when Ami had gone digging deeper, she had found that it was designed that way from the start. Assassins were taught code, and emails were hardly where the most sensitive information was held. Everything was done vaguely and in code, where only those aware of it knew what was actually being said.

It also made it so that no one could get into the true Hephaestus from the emails. Ami had tried, and Desmond figured that Erudito and Abstergo did as well. But Ami could only get so far before deciding there was too much risk by going any further. Not without being noticed, and not without retaliation. Who knew how far Erudito or Abstergo managed? It couldn’t have been too far, or the intrusion would have been dealt with.  _ Noticeably. _

And that was just the email server, basically. Sure, the Assassins bounced signals around, but that was different than having access to the  _ actual _ satellites, or that original network. Ami wasn’t even certain that Abstergo knew about the true network at all.

Desmond looked up at Rebecca. “No one even knows where the servers are, last I knew. Did the Assassins actually find them in the last decade?”

Rebecca shook her head. “We still don’t know where they are. We only know that Daniel Cross never found them, or likely never knew about them. The Assassins in charge of Hephaestus are still out there.”

Desmond let out a low whistle. And this was the first he heard of it. Desmond eyed Rebecca thoughtfully. “And this is something you shouldn’t be telling me, isn’t it?” As an engineer, she had access to knowledge and info that even the Mentor might only have partial access to. Not because it needed to be secret, but because engineers were specialized. They did, after all, keep the Assassins up to date.

Rebecca nodded, and pressed a finger to her lips, quirking a smile. “I figured you knew, considering who your parents are. Even if it has been a decade. Anyways, I made a request when Lucy let us know she was springing you out, and they sent me all I needed for the phone. Assassins are one thing. Our Hephaestus guys are ghosts.”

“Ghosts to the ghosts themselves,” Desmond said, remembering the old adage.

Like all cultures and societies, Assassins had their own legends. As such, there were rumors of the Assassins that embodied  _ hide in plain sight _ to the point of invisibility.

He remembered his parents and the adults on the Farm speaking about Hephaestus a lot. He didn’t  _ know, _ not really, but Desmond almost thought that it was Hephaestus that kept the Assassins afloat after the last Mentor died. If those revered Assassins in charge of the network in the first place were still alive, that made sense.

“Yeah.” Rebecca rubbed the back of her neck, and smiled nervously. And slightly in awe. “It fit in with what I already planned for your phone.”

“We ever wonder why they don’t run the world themselves?” Desmond asked absently.

He idly looked over the phone with his second sight. It glowed golden. He wondered if he went high enough and followed the trail, if he could find them. Either the servers or the Assassins in charge of them.

Best he didn’t. They had all the opportunity in the world to find Desmond and report his location back to his parents, but they didn’t. If anything, Desmond owed them for that, nevermind everything else Hephaestus has likely done.

“Because they’re Assassins?” Rebecca offered, shrugging. “Free will and all that. Though I’m pretty sure they only back the Assassins because they despise the Templars more.”

Desmond got the feeling that wasn’t quite it. “If you remain neutral in the face of oppression, it isn’t a neutral act,” Desmond recited. He studied his new phone. Well. He definitely didn’t need to worry about anyone snooping on this at least.

Ratonhnhaké:ton appeared to hover over Desmond’s shoulder. “What is the likelihood of these Assassins having Eagle Vision?”

Aveline appeared as well near Desmond’s other shoulder. “To remain as they are, even with technology this advanced?” Aveline snorted and shook her head. “No bet.”

“Walk me through what you’ve done?” Desmond asked Rebecca, and opened his phone. It didn’t have a passcode yet, but that was an easy fix.

Rebecca moved to his side, and Ratonhnhaké:ton stepped away from her. “I left the interface as is since Apple has a pretty good user system. Here are the apps you’ll need. Here’s our email, and here’s the apps that don’t record any data.”

“You actually didn’t do anything noticeable, did you?” Desmond asked.

“Nope!” Rebecca grinned at him. “It’s all hardware and programming, thank you. You’ll notice it runs way smoother and faster than the commercial standard, but that’s really about it. Other than the massive storage, of course. Feel free to take all the pictures and videos you want.”

Desmond hummed thoughtfully. “I’m guessing that it does a full wipe?”

“Not what I put in, but the stuff from Hephaestus? I’m pretty sure,” Rebecca said. “As you can imagine, we never actually recover equipment to check on what it does.”

“Thanks, Rebecca,” Desmond said and focused on his new phone. Old phone. Whatever.

“Not a problem,” Rebecca said, and nudged him in the side.”Just be careful about using the phone or sending texts while we’re here. It’s too close to Rome to be certain that any outgoing and incoming calls won’t be traced.”

Well, Desmond wasn’t planning on outright calling anyone. Email it was. “Got it. Thank you.”

There was a pause. “Desmond?” Rebecca asked.

“Yeah?” Desmond looked up. He could organize the apps how he liked later.

Rebecca studied him. “Have you really only been here for a few days?”

Desmond blinked, and thought it over. The night he and Lucy escaped Abstergo. The afternoon and night he spent passed out. The first day he spent in the Animus, and then the realization on why Hastings was such an ass to him. And then today, with what happened that morning, leading up to now…

“Yeah,” Desmond said incredulously. He shared a startled glance with Ratonhnhaké:ton and Aveline. “It’s felt like it’s been way longer.”

Rebecca rubbed her arms like she was cold. “Assassins can move pretty quickly, but this is something else.”

Desmond frowned. “It feels like something’s pushing us, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca agreed. “It might just be the threat of Abstergo. We really are too close to Rome for my comfort.”

“Hm,” Desmond hummed, and looked to Ratonhnhaké:ton and Aveline, still at his side.

He thought of what was happening in all of his lives currently. Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was days out on his siege of Fort George. Altair, who was dealing with the aftermath of their rebellion. Elise, who had the Templar coup, and the upcoming French Revolution to handle. With Desmond, that was half of their cluster of eight dealing with some rather troublesome things.

“We’ll push through,” Desmond told Rebecca.

Maybe not whole, and definitely not the same. But they would. Desmond had seven other selves to bolster his strength with, as well as the support systems they all had spread throughout time and space.

And Desmond would share that strength with this team of Assassins. He’d have to work on it to make them a proper team, but here was a start. And it seemed Rebecca was willing to work with him.

Rebecca smiled up at him, relieved. “Yeah, okay.”

0o0o0


	17. Chapter 17

Desmond was awake. Really. Even if he was still in bed with his arm thrown over his eyes. He was going to get up because he had to make everyone breakfast. He just wanted to do nothing for a little bit. Maybe complain some. He could do with some good complaining.

“This is going to be fun,” Desmond sighed.

He didn’t want to head back into the Animus. Especially not when he would be going through Ezio’s memories. And not  _ his _ Ezio’s memories, but the Ezio that didn’t have  _ them. _ That didn’t have seven other selves. That had lost most of his family. That had been set on a path that he had no choice in the matters of.

Oh, Desmond could see that Ezio had a  _ choice, _ of course. But those choices were not ones that Ezio could live with. And therefore, that Ezio had no choices left to him at all.

“You mean that living through another version of myself’s memories is not the height of entertainment to you?” Ezio asked dryly. Even after a night of rest, Ezio still carried that shock of trauma. And likely would for a while. Desmond knew he would. “Shame on you, Desmond. Shame.”

Desmond sighed and sat up to wrap an arm around Ezio’s waist, the gesture quickly returned. They already made the decision that Ezio wouldn’t help Desmond with the Animus this time. It was bad enough that they would all be getting Desmond’s headaches and other assorted issues from the Animus. There was no need to put Ezio through his own memories. Even if they technically weren’t his own.

“We’ll be fine,” Ezio promised him, and pressed their foreheads together. “You and Altair survived. You and I will survive. You would  _ survive _ even if you were truly on your own.”

“Really?” Desmond asked quietly.

He knew himself well enough. He rolled with the punches, sure. He was adaptive, sure. That was well proven, and would continue to be proven. But sometimes it felt like Desmond went with the flow so well that he could lose himself to it. If Desmond’s headaches and the Bleeding Effect were this bad with seven other selves to help him, he didn’t want to know what it would be like without them.

“Yes,” Ezio said firmly. He reached up to cradle the back of Desmond’s head, pressing their foreheads together more firmly. “You are Desmond Miles, and that is no small thing.”

Desmond took a shaky breath in. He closed his eyes. His heart ached at the utter certainty in those words. “I am Desmond Miles.”

And he believed. Desmond could survive this, even on his own. Ezio would not lie to him about that. Not because Ezio was one of his other selves, but because he was  _ Ezio Auditore da Firenze. _ But, the important thing was- Desmond did not have to. More importantly, he didn’t want to.

Like that, it was easy for the two of them to share the comfort they held with each other. From Desmond to Ezio and back again, they healed their hearts from what happened to them, and bolstered their minds for the upcoming day. And, a step beside them in their hearts, their presence keenly felt even if none of them were visiting, their other selves offered their own comfort and support.

Several minutes later, Desmond leaned back and sighed heavily. He felt so much better, and more willing to face the day. “I have to make breakfast.”

“I think that if you stop making food, the others will riot,” Ezio said wryly. “Especially Rebecca.”

“There is that,” Desmond agreed, and stretched his arms above his head. He grabbed his hoodie and put on his shoes. He stared at the bloodstains on his hoodie. “I need a change of clothes.”

He’d bring it up with Lucy after breakfast. His clothes were starting to smell of sweat. Soon enough everyone would be complaining about the smell. While Desmond figured that the others weren’t lugging around a closet, they likely had at least a couple extra sets of clothing.

“You’ve needed a change of clothes for the past week,” Ezio said and climbed out of bed to follow him.

“So they should give into my demands easily enough,” Desmond said and led him to the kitchenette. Rebecca, Lucy, and Hastings were already up and working.

“Do they ever sleep?” Ezio asked, watching the three with raised eyebrows.

“We’ll worry about it if they keep it up for the next few days,” Desmond told him privately. He had, after all, decided to make this Assassin cell one of his priorities. And that priority meant making sure they took care of themselves. Feeding them was only part of that.

Desmond eyed the leftovers in the fridge, and made a mental check on what else he had available to him. He hummed in thought. It’d be a bit experimental, but if it worked out the way he thought it would, it’d taste fine. Cooking came from the heart after all.

Other than figuring out what to make, breakfast was done quickly. Desmond kept a mental eye on the others with his Eagle Vision. He was amused to find how deliberately the three of them  _ didn’t _ crowd the kitchen door.

“Good food is something to be appreciated,” Jun said from her spot on the counter. She had shown up to watch him cook.

Being in the kitchen brought his other selves to him as well. They avoided Desmond and the stove, of course, but they cared little for the lack of space. The eight of them shared their minds and souls- personal space became a non issue in light of that.

None of them had to be there either, but Desmond spent the past decade with cooks of all kinds. Over time, cooking became something communal for him. Having people with him while he cooked and ate made food just taste better.

Desmond sighed. He missed his apartment in New York. He missed his captains, and his friends, and the family he found there. He was glade he could contact them through email now, but it wasn’t the same. Desmond had never been away from New York for so long against his will. Desmond hadn’t been  _ anywhere _ for so long against his will since he left the Farm.

“If you manage to steal the Assassins, you can introduce them to Mercury,” Elise said, reaching out to pat Desmond on the arm. “I’m sure that your captains are interested in anyone you decided was worth the effort of keeping.”

“Sure,” Desmond agreed readily. Especially Tristan, who mothered anyone and everyone around her if they stood still long enough. “Now, isn’t it breakfast for you too?”

“Probably,” Elise agreed, and stretched. “But we’ve all got people willing to cook for us.”

“Then go have breakfast,” Desmond said and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” Honestly, meal times in this place were the most comfortable times. And the least likely times when Desmond would need any of his other selves.

Well. As long as everyone was more focused on the food and less on interrogation. Which, at this point, seemed to be an unspoken agreement. The situation might change as the four of them got more used to each other, but for now they were okay.

“Call us if you need us,” Evei said seriously.

“I will,” Desmond promised. That was, if no one showed up the moment Desmond felt any sort of distress in the first place.

The others all disappeared from his sight, leaving him alone in the kitchen to finish cooking. Breakfast was mostly done anyways. Desmond tidied up and grabbed his own plate of food. The others were all waiting by the door when he called them in, looking eager. Desmond valiantly did not roll his eyes at them and went to go find a spot to sit.

How to approve the situation… Desmond had some things he needed to do. There were some that would wait until after they saw Vidic again, if only to get a bearing on where he stood in this situation. The most urgent at this time was speaking with Hastings some more, if only for his own peace of mind. Then speaking with Lucy. Desmond wouldn’t push her on leaving, but hopefully just talking to her would be nice.

Desmond honestly didn’t mind speaking to her, even around the secrets they both held. It’d been a long time since Desmond had spoken with another Assassin, especially one born into the Order as well.

First things first, though. Desmond needed a change of clothes. It wasn’t quite desperate just yet, but he was reaching that point. At the very least, he would  _ really _ like a clean pair of underwear.

“Okay,” Desmond started halfway through breakfast. He pointed his fork at them. “We’ve got some things to talk about, yeah? Probably. But I have a rather important thing that we need to discuss before we get into any of that.”

“Yes?” Lucy asked, eyebrows raised. She had her fork raised to her lips.

“This should be hilarious,” Rebecca grinned at him, pointing her own fork back at him.

“Depends on what you consider hilarious,” Desmond drawled in her direction. He turned to Lucy, who was the one that would make the final decision. “So. I’ve been here for a few days now. Things are going better, we’ve got shelter and food, and I’m actually getting some decent sleep. But I need, and I cannot stress this enough, some extra clothes. And if not a full outfit, at the very least some clean underwear.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Rebecca said gravely.

“Oh, you would have eventually,” Desmond told her, “I like to think I keep relatively clean, and I don’t sweat like a pig. But still.” He motioned to himself and the blood on his hoodie. Even his jeans were starting to stretch in an uncomfortable way. Normally they fit so well. “I am getting to the point where you will  _ want _ me to have clean clothes.”

“Yes, you did request something similar before,” Lucy said. She hummed thoughtfully. “We have another supply run coming up. I’ll see about setting aside some funds for some clothes.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said sincerely. “Though I have no idea how you guys are doing your own laundry, I’m certain that you have at least some extra sets of clothing.”

“Just a few, but we all have at least a week’s worth of clean underwear,” Rebecca nodded in agreement. “It goes a long way in feeling clean. Even if we are really, really not.”

“It does,” Desmond agreed. In fact, he was focusing on the Animus-induced exhaustion to avoid thinking about how long he’s been wearing the same pair of underwear. Some things didn’t bear contemplating.

After that request, breakfast went the way Desmond expected. They focused on eating and keeping the general peace instead of anything else. His requests for some clean underwear was something of an ice breaker. Hopefully they could keep the momentum going- Desmond had plans for this cell, and he’d like for them to be friends.

Now, to actually  _ speak _ with the ones he needed to speak to. Desmond was, unfortunately for his mental health, going back into the Animus today. He would have to fit the needed conversations around that. Not an impossible task, but having hard conversations when he was already handling whatever the Animus threw at him wasn’t going to be fun.

Though maybe he could use that? If they were slightly pitying and worried for Desmond, it’d make them more agreeable. Hopefully.

Desmond sighed, and leaned on the mental presence of his other selves.

* * *

“How are you feeling, Des?” Rebecca asked at noon, eating an energy bar. Despite how many empty cans of energy drinks she had at her desk, Desmond noticed that there weren’t any crumbs or stains.

“Tired,” Desmond said, shrugging. “But that’s my general state of being at the moment, so I don’t think it’s particularly noteworthy.”

“Probably not,” Rebecca said, “But I’m going to keep asking anyways. Tired is fine- even if your body isn’t moving, you’re spending a lot of energy going through memories. Mental exhaustion is just as real as physical exhaustion.”

Desmond nodded. That was very true. “Though I do like your Animus way better. Also, not being threatened by a coma, or forcing me to search for a nother Piece of Eden helps.”

“I’d think so,” Rebecca said, “Though I do appreciate the love for Baby.”

“Not sure if it’s love, Rebecca,” Desmond replied dryly.

“It’s definitely love,” Rebecca said, and nodded firmly. Then she looked curious. “So, what’s it like learning parkour from La Volpe?”

“Amazing,” Desmond said promptly.

With the trauma lock out of the way, they were able to do what they had planned in the beginning by sending him to learn parkour immediately. It was still exhausting, especially since Desmond had to also handle the emotions and the memories of that Ezio  _ around _ learning parkour, but it was definitely better than before.

“I bet,” Rebecca said, whistling lowly. “We actually have records of  _ La Volpe, _ but more as a title than an actual person.”

“I know. It’s one of the reasons why I was actually willing to try this out when I realized exactly who he was,” Desmond said. Nevermind that he learned in person following the master thief around.

None of them were entirely certain that La Volpe didn’t  _ know _ about them, either. Or if he had Eagle Vision at all. La Volpe kept his own counsel, and they respected the man enough to not pry or to worry about it.

In fact, it was odd- this Ezio learned differently than Desmond, so despite the fact that they were learning to do the same thing, they figured out how to do it in different ways. It was a good discussion to bring up with his other selves later. How they  _ learned _ differently, and  _ how _ they did things differently. The eight of them could share their skills amongst themselves, and learn from each other, but that was different than  _ learning _ as each other.

Something to talk about later. The eight of them were curious people, and this was a new train of thought they hadn’t really discussed before.

“I wonder who trained La Volpe?” Desmond mused, now that his thoughts were leaning in that direction. “He’s ridiculously good at what he does, you know?”

“If he was  _ the _ master thief, he’s probably been at it since he was a kid,” Rebecca said, shrugging. “I mean, even in these few memories we’ve seen the children of his guild, so it seems likely.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Desmond said. It was one of the things they did know about the man. Those child thieves would grow up to give Assassins a run for their money. It was why they were so invested in working with each other. “I wonder if he inherited the title, or if he’s the first La Volpe?”

“I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Rebecca said ruefully. “Ezio only became aware of La Volpe as an adult. No backstory for us, unfortunately.”

No, no there wasn’t. Either in the Animus or in the life he lived with Ezio. They spent some time thinking about it, but made the decision to  _ avoid _ looking for more information.

“I don’t know if I  _ want _ to know,” Desmond admitted, “There’s something about the fantasy of a master thief named  _ La Volpe _ that would lose some of its mysticism if we knew.”

Even with eight people who shared their hearts and minds across space and time, there were simply some things that were  _ magical, _ often in a childish way. Things that didn’t have to do with The Ones Who Came Before, or the Pieces of Eden, or Assassins, or Templars. Things that Desmond learned from the people who had nothing to do with it all. Desmond surrounded himself with the family and the friends he made because they expanded how he saw the world.

That, Desmond thought, might be one of the things he had to teach this cell of his. That he had to bring up with Lucy, too. Rebecca made an agreeing sound. He decided that it meant she agreed with his decision to teach them that.

“I know,” Rebecca said, and smiled brightly. “It’s one of the reasons I joined the Assassins in the first place, actually.”

“Yeah, you said something about a superhero team,” Desmond said. Which he was resolutely ignoring, even if it still made his other selves laugh at his expense. He was certain that they would definitely bring it up again and again.

“Well, that was the main reason I volunteered for  _ this,” _ Rebecca said, waving her hand around the warehouse, and the Animus 2.0 sitting centerpoint. “But the  _ idea _ of the Order of Assassins was something that drew me in.”

“Really?” Desmond asked. He thought about it and- “Huh. I guess I just never  _ thought _ about it. Assassins, Templars, the whole war between the two just seems… so integral to how I saw the world that I didn’t really think what it looked like from the outside.”

Even those who knew, like his captains, never really brought it up. Maybe it’s because they took their cues from Desmond, who viewed them something to avoid. Not ignore, since that made it easy to get caught, but avoid.

He’d have to ask what his captains thought about it when he returned. Desmond would also ask his other selves what they thought, or what the people around them thought.

Altair, Ezio, and Evie, who came from long lineages of Assassins. Elise, from a line of Templars, and raised alongside an Assassin. Jun and Aveline, who joined the Assassins to fulfill a different purpose. Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was sent to the Assassins from a different source.

How had they never thought about this?

“Yeah, that’s what you get when you grow up in it, even if you’re gone for ten years,” Rebecca said, shrugging, as if she didn’t just set Desmond off into a philosophical loop. “People get used to some really weird things if they’re raised from childhood with it.”

Desmond hummed, pulling his thoughts back to the moment. “Yeah, I guess so. I think I should thank you for bringing it to my attention, Rebecca.”

Rebecca didn’t look like she quite understood why he did so, but seemed pleased regardless.

* * *

“Lucy is getting nervous,” Jun said that night, in the hour before Desmond would start making dinner. She leaned over Desmond with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his head tucked under her chin.

“How so?” Desmond asked. Because it wasn’t like Lucy being nervous was some big secret at this point. Though perhaps he was more aware than either Rebecca or Hastings about what she had to be nervous about.

“About what you’ve done in the Animus,” Jun said. “Lucy is meant to have you find any Piece of Eden Ezio might come in contact with. But you haven’t done anything but learn parkour and some other Assassin adjacent skills.”

“Which is what we’ve decided that I’m doing,” Desmond said.

“Yes,” Jun agreed, “And that is good for the Assassins. But not for the Templars.”

“And Lucy knows how expendable she is,” Elise said, pressed against his side. “If she doesn’t produce results as expected, they will not hesitate to terminate her.”

“Which we do not want to happen,” Desmond said. “Yeah, that’s going to be a problem. Especially since I don’t want to push myself in the Animus. That’s a good way for mental instability.”

“We’ll have to figure out the line between your health and giving them enough information to be useful,” Jun said, “Lucy is yours now, and she is too good to just sacrifice.”

“That’s true.” Desmond agreed.

Because Lucy really was. She felt deeply, and held to her convictions. She may have become a Templar, but he would bet that it took years of constant work for them to grab her. And there is only so much that Templars could do to turn an Assassin against their principles. Free will, choice, consent- all things that Lucy must hold true even now. She didn’t have any grand designs for power, or egomania, or anything that hallmarked Templar ideology. Lucy was no longer part of the Order, but he thought she could very well still be an  _ Assassin. _

“She is like us,” Elise said, following his train of thought. “She sees that there are more than two paths. But she doesn’t have other selves to find them with her. She is trapped by the divide between Assassin and Templar.”

“We’ll have to show her, then,” Desmond said. “I was going to speak with Hastings, since I’ll need to be able to work with him, but Lucy may take priority.”

“At least until the next toss up,” Jun agreed, “Lucy needs our help the most right now.”

Desmond jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened almost in overreaction, but that was better than attacking Rebecca. Having Jun and Elise there helped.

“Whoops, sorry Desmond,” Rebecca said, taking an obvious step back and holding her hands up in front of her.

He should probably tell that for an Assassin with a hidden blade, that was prime stabbing opportunity. A paranoid Assassin would not like a hands up gesture this close to them. Honestly, having the Assassins as hidden and separate as they were tended to limit the actual  _ culture _ that people brought in rather than raised into it learned.

Though that might just be Desmond, who spent a portion of his life in Masyaf with Altair, and the shared cultural osmosis he had with his other selves. Which sounded like another thing to bring up with them. Desmond was, as himself, actually  _ with _ other Assassins.

He had no idea what modern Assassins were like anymore. May not have ever known, since he was sequestered away on the Farm for his entire life before running away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Desmond said, and took a deep breath. Jun and Elise blinked at her, then shifted so that Desmond could move if he needed to. Not that Rebecca was a threat, but maybe she needed him to go somewhere. “Did you need anything?”

“Not really. Just thought I’d ask what you were thinking about so heavily,” Rebecca said, shrugging and moving to sit next to him.

Desmond hummed in thought. There were a lot of answers to that question. But…

“We like her and trust her,” Ezio said, appearing behind them to lean against Elise. “Tell her the truth. Or, most of the truth.”

“I’m worried about Lucy, actually,” Desmond said.

“Lucy?” Rebecca repeated.

“Yeah,” Desmond shrugged. “Have you noticed that she seems nervous? Or stressed at all?”

“I did,” Rebecca said slowly, “But she’s team leader, and is also relearning how we do things, since she was stuck with the Templars for so long. Not to mention that she can’t necessarily decompress, since we’re working here too.”

“And she’s pretty amazing to do all of that,” Desmond said, because Lucy was. She was relearning the Assassin tools, sending reports to the Templars, team leader and therefore in charge of this cell, sending reports to his father… Desmond couldn’t multitask that well without help. “I don’t know. She just seems nervous about something.” He shook his head, sighing. “Never mind. I could just be imagining it.”

“No, your instincts are probably on point,” Rebecca said, humming. “At least, don’t discount them straight out.”

“I won’t,” Desmond said, “But- I don’t know. Maybe we can just do something to help her out somewhat? At least a little. I don’t know what she does entirely, but anyone who has to report to my father probably needs some back up.”

And Vidic. Both his father and Vidic were stressful individuals. Lucy could be bound for therapy having to report to both of them. Honestly, now that Desmond thought about it, he’d try and pull her away from those two just for her own peace of mind.

Was Desmond being too harsh on his father? Maybe. He hadn’t seen his parents in nearly a decade after all. A decade was a long time for someone to change. Did Desmond particularly care right now? No.

“Wow, you really don’t like your dad, do you,” Rebecca said, whistling. She didn’t wait for an answer before nodding. “Yeah, Lucy probably needs some time, but we can definitely help out at least a little bit. I’ll tell Shaun too.”

“Don’t forget to take care of yourselves either,” Desmond said. “Don’t think I don’t notice how little you guys sleep. Or that if I wasn’t making food how little you would eat.” Desmond turned and pointed at Rebecca’s desk. “Energy drinks do not make a good diet.”

Rebecca huffed dramatically. “I didn’t think when we got you we ended up with a mother hen, but I guess we did.”

“You don’t know  _ mother hen _ until you have several grandmothers take an interest in your well being,” Desmond said flatly. “I’m a good cook out of  _ self defense, _ Rebecca.”

“Well,” Rebecca said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m reaping the benefits, so don’t mind me if I don’t sympathise.”

“I feel so comforted. Thank you,” Desmond said.

“You’re welcome!” Rebecca said brightly.

0o0o0

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://hausos-writing.tumblr.com/) is the link to my writing tumblr.


End file.
